Ruins of a Soul
by hexedwinchester
Summary: Sam did manage to lock up Lucifer back in his cage and in the process condemned himself to a series of unspeakably agonizing torture by the hands of the Devil. This fic delves deeper into Sam's time in Hell. Also a look at Dean's apple pie life with Lisa and Ben. Hurt!Sam all the way.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Hi everyone!

I'm new to writing fan-fictions. This is my first fic ever and I'm still trying to figure out how this site works. This is my take on what Sam went through in Hell. Yes, I'm aware we'll be soon treading into Season 13, but my muse is stuck with Lucifer in his cage and is forcing me to watch Sam suffer. Oh! Sam, my heart breaks for you.

This will be Sam-centric but you'll catch glimpses of Dean. So without further ado, here you go. I hope you all like it.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Winchesters and Kripke says they are not for sale. :(

-SPN-

Chapter 1:

A flash of light glinting off the shiny black machine was all it took to cause the fraction of distraction. The fraction that lead to downfall of a very powerful being for the second time in its existence. The fraction that stopped one brother from beating another to death. The fraction that helped, turn the tables and switch control back to the real owner of the six feet four frame of a body. The fraction that flashed thousands of memories, memories of past, belongingness, brotherhood, love and most of all, memories of being loved. That was the fraction of distraction that opened the window for Sam Winchester to save the world that he once broke.

A curse was lifted and Sam's steps faltered as he gained the control of his mind and body which had been a prisoner to one of the greatest evil to ever walk the surface of the earth. His heart broke when he saw the bloody mess that was his brother. It shattered more when he realized that it was _his_ hands that were responsible for the bloodshed; his hands that were coated in the blood of his brother. His hands that landed the punches that broke and bruised the bones of his brother's face. It didn't matter that none of this was by his will; it didn't matter that Lucifer forced his hands, because in the end, in Sam's eyes, all he saw was his own fist slamming in to the face of the brother he loved more than anything in his life.

"It's ok, Dean." Sam reassured his brother who was as stunned as him to see Sam and not the devil at the wheel, steering his body. "It's gonna be ok. I've got him."

Lucifer was causing a racket in Sam's mind but he was more determined than he had ever been. He knew he would not be able to hold Lucifer back more than mere minutes but that was all the time he needed. Patting his jacket and jeans, Sam felt the hardness of the fused rings at the bottom of the jean's pocket. He reached in and pulled out the rings, threw them to the ground and recited the small spell. The gentle wind in the cemetery gained stronger momentum, howling at Sam's ears. The ground where he was standing began to sink as the portal to Lucifer's cage opened. It was so deep and dark inside that Sam couldn't even begin to deduce how deep his fall was going to be. What he didn't have to speculate was his destination. Jumping down the swallowing hole meant signing one way ticket to the sinister depths of hell and not just any place but Lucifer's personal condo.

 _One last time_ , Sam thought as he let his sad eyes land on his brother's; at least one of them because the other was shut tight by the swollen, bloodied lid. A sequence of emotions flashed through his brother's green eye. Surprise, as the realization dawned on him that Sam had taken control of the Devil himself, followed by a flicker of happiness because his little brother had beat the Devil and finally sorrow as the truth sank in like a rock dropping to the deepest ocean floor: It was time to say goodbye.

Goodbyes were a bitch; at least for Sam Winchester they were. Sam was forced to say goodbye to everything he loved from the time his life began. First, his mother, who he never knew personally because he was too young to remember. He had come to know her through Dean's memories and their dad's on the nights he wasn't sober enough to bottle his feelings.

Throughout his childhood and later into teenage, Sam was forced to say goodbye to every friend he ever made because his family moved from one town to another until Sam stopped making friends. Because what was the point of making friends if you aren't allowed to keep them.

The first goodbye that deeply hurt him was the night he left for Stanford. Sure, getting into college was Sam's dream, his normal from the messed up life he'd grown into but cutting the strings from the only family he had left wasn't something Sam wanted. But his father practically kicked him out, shutting the door forever by ordering him to never return thus forcing him to say goodbye to his family, to Dean.

Then, came the goodbye that ripped Sam's soul to shreds. _Jess_. His lovely Jess gutted and burnt to ashes in front of his eyes, in their apartment right, above their bed. The night Jess was killed; Sam witnessed not one but two deaths: Jess' and his mother's because that was exactly how his mother had died. Gutted, pinned to the ceiling and burnt to dust, right above his crib.

Saying goodbye to John Winchester was harder than Sam had thought it should be. Being a drill sergeant for a father who was absent for most of the time, Sam didn't expect his death to hurt so much. But hurt it had. For Sam had grown close to him in the short span of a year than he ever had throughout his childhood.

Finally, came the goodbye that had haunted Sam ever since he became aware of Dean's deal. The one that he made to resurrect Sam by condemning his own soul to the misery-thirsty trenches of hell. His brother's body was torn to pieces and his soul was dragged to Hell by the invisible hell hound.

This goodbye felt like a déjà vu except it wasn't Dean who was going to Hell. It was Sam. And he wasn't being dragged by anything, he was choosing to go. Just like every other goodbye, this too hurt like a bitch.

No more words were exchanged between the two brothers who were caught in the wrong battle. The fallen brother with his battered body lay rested against his beloved Impala watching his younger brother ready himself for the fall. Both aware that it was going to be the last time they were going to see each other. Sam was scared if not terrified. Who would blame him? He was going to Hell. Literally, he was headed straight to Lucifer's cage. Hell was bad enough already, how worse was the cage going to be, Sam could not fathom.

"Sam." Michael's voice interrupted their farewell. The son of a bitch was back already and still possessing Adam's body. "It's not gonna end this way. Step back"

"You're gonna have to make me." Sam challenged, though he was still feared; not his demise, but Lucifer claiming control on him and using his hands to wreck havoc on the world again.

"I've to fight my brother, Sam. Here and now. It is my destiny!" But Sam was having none of the apocalypse crap because no matter who won, Lucifer or Michael, people were still going to die under the tag of collateral damage. Blood of thousands, even million innocent people would spill if Michael and Lucifer butted heads. No, as long as Sam was breathing, he was not going to allow that.

The wild wind was howling around Sam, whispering him to take the leap. Closing his sorrow-ridden eyes, Sam took one last breath, opened his arms wide and surrendered his body to the gravity of the pit.

Something tugged his freefalling body and his eyes fell open. Adam's face filled his vision, his hand gripping at Sam's lapel trying to pull him from the edge of the pit, from his decision to jump in the cage. Acting on pure instinct, Sam pawed at Adam's; holding onto whatever he could and yanked him to the hell's burrow. Two bodies, three souls fell into the swallowing crater.

Sam kept rocketing to the bottom of the pit which was nowhere near in sight. The pull of the gravity was so strong that it forced Adam off of Sam. The opening from where they jumped into the pit was slid shut, rendering their falling bodies into the quiet darkness. Sam didn't know how long he had been falling but it felt like an eternity had passed already. He wasn't just falling anymore; he was falling asleep, or maybe just unconscious. Or maybe he was dying. Sam didn't know for sure. He just welcomed the darkness.

A bone chilling screech rattled the walls of the cage as Lucifer howled in pure rage when he found himself confined within the very walls he had worked so hard to break free. The anger consumed his entire being as he searched the cause of his imprisonment. **Sam Winchester was going to be in a** _ **brutal**_ **hell of a situation once he finds him.** With that thought, Lucifer's lips broke into a satisfying grin.

-SPN-

AN: Good, bad, ugly?


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Chapter 2 is here and a lengthy chapter indeed. Phew! It builds the story before it delves into Hurt!Sam. Simple form of torture for this initial chapter but I promise it will advance as I update more chapters. I hope you all enjoy!

Thank you for reading!

Thank you Aslack for following and Kas3y for reviewing and following my story J

-SPN-

Chapter 2:

What brought Sam to the world of waking was a dull ache in the back of his head. A moan slipped past his lips. His hand searched for the source of pain but the only thing he felt was a smooth scalp under all the hair. He allowed his eyes to open to slits, taking in the view of his whereabouts. An empty road was stretched ahead of him and the only life form that seemed to thrive was Sam alone.

"Dean?" Sam called his own voice unrecognizable to him. So he tried again, a bit louder this time "Dean!"

Dean never _not_ answered to his call of distress. The fact that he didn't, ignited a new fear deep in his chest.

 _Had a hunt gone wrong? Where was Dean?_

Suddenly, the memories flooded in, memories of Sam saying yes to Lucifer, of him beating the living day lights out of Dean, of taking the control back from the Devil and jumping in the pit dragging Michael with him. The last thing he remembered before lights went out was Lucifer raining punches down his wall to gain control before the pit shut close.

Speaking of, the inside of Sam's mind had been calm ever since he woke up. As far as he knew, Lucifer wasn't in the building and if he was, that cunning bastard was covering his tracks effectively in his mind. But instinct told him otherwise.

The question still remained, _where was he?_ Sure as hell, the place didn't look like a cage, just an empty stretch of road with thunder rolling over the distant horizon.

"Sam?" a familiar voice came from somewhere behind. Adam stood not far from him.

"Adam?" Sam wasn't sure if it really was Adam or Michael possessing him.

"Yeah" Adam replied, "I don't think he is here anymore." Sam figured he was talking about Michael. With Lucifer and Michael gone, did that mean they weren't in Hell anymore?

"Where are we?" Adam carefully stepped closer to Sam, taking in his surroundings. They were no bars or fences that hinted they should be in the cage, just a long never ending highway to nowhere.

Sam saw that his brother was still waiting on an answer but the truth was Sam didn't really know it, having just awakened. "I don't know but we should stick together." If they were truly in Hell that meant Sam had already lost his one of his brothers but he wasn't going lose another.

Adam nodded his head and made his way towards Sam, flinching every time the thunder cracked the gray skies. Sam glanced at the road ahead of them. With only one way to go, Sam's feet started advancing in the direction of the horizon. It resembled like the time after Dean and he was shot dead by the hunters and they had to keep following the road to reach the end. Yes, this felt just like it!

"Adam, I think this road –" But Adam was not behind him like he should be. He was rooted to the ground where he had been, his eyes closed and lips trembling. Sam feared that something had gotten to him.

"Adam?" he approached carefully, putting a hand on his shoulder. But Adam didn't respond. He was too busy concentrating on what looked like a chanting. Was he praying?

The thunder boomed louder this time as if warning the two brothers against the danger to come. A flash of lightening struck the ground not far away from where they were standing. Sam brought his hand up to shield his eyes against the painfully bright light. With his other hand, he grabbed at Adam pulling him behind. His hunter instinct in action at once.

The light snuffed out and standing before them was a man who Sam took more than seconds to recognize.

"Dad?" a horrible feeling settled in Sam's gut that shouldn't have accompanied that face. The man looked like his dad but not one the he grew up with. No, he was the John Winchester that had fallen in love with his mother. The young John.

"Guess again, Sam" that right there was his cue that everything was off about the John that was standing before him with a misplaced glint of anger behind those blue eyes.

The realization hit Sam like a rock and he took a fearful breath "Michael." That confirmed his fear; this was Hell.

Michael made a slow advance towards the reason of his current fate. He took delight in the shudder that ran through his brother's vessel. Good, he should be quaking with fear especially with what he had planned for him.

"Stay back!" Sam's empty threat dissolved in the crash of the thunder. "Adam, stay close. He doesn't want you. I'm the reason we are here."

"I know" came Adam's strong reply. "But I'm the reason _he_ came."

"What?" the confusion was evident on Sam's face. Did he hear it right? If he did, then did that mean –?

"Yes, Sam. Adam called me here. That little chant was for summoning me." Michael was enjoying the look of fear on Sam's face. "You know, just so I could settle our score."

"Why?" Sam's lips trembled, his heart heavy with the sense of betrayal.

Adam frowned, as if the _why_ should have been self explanatory. "Why?" his voice rose, He was no longer standing in the safety of Sam. "You Winchesters are the reason I'm stuck in this hell hole. Your father was the reason everything in my life going downhill." The fact that Adam didn't call John _their_ father was not lost n him. "The ghouls killed my mother _and_ me because of your father. And then when the angels offered me a chance to bring back the only person I loved, back to life, I took it." Adam's anger was rolling off of him. "You do everything for family, right Sam? Whatever it takes? So I said yes, to Michael and I played my part but you had to go ahead be a self righteous piece of crap! When I fell –no when you dragged us- Michael made me another offer. To find you and hand you over to him before Lucifer finds you."

"In exchange for what?" Sam belted.

"For my freedom of course."

"You think Michael can help you out of this cage? Look at him!" his finger pointed to where Michael was standing with an eerie sense of calm. "He can't. If he could, he wouldn't be here. He would have just left your soul to rot."

"That's where the catch is, Sam" Michael interrupted the conversation between the two vessels. "Adam is mere a _whisper_."

"A what?"

"A whisper. The smallest fragment of a soul." Michael casually marched closer, walking in circles around Sam who crouched ready in defense or offence whatever the situation would demand. "When your pet angel molotoved me with Holy Fire, Adam died. I only resurrected a small part of his soul, enough to get his consent, because time was of the essence and I had to fight my brother. The whisper will soon fade away." An amazed expression crossed his face as his eyes looked somewhere behind Sam. "Look, it already is!"

True to his words, Adam's form was transparent, ghost-like, as if he was dissolving in the air. And for the first time ever Sam knew the true meaning of being alone. "No!" Sam lunged forwards to grasp at the last dying fragment of his brother but his hand dropped empty to his side. "Adam!"

"It's just you and me for now." Young John's face was suddenly inches away from Sam. He stumbled as he tried to back away from the familiar face featuring a very unfamiliar expression. But what chance did Sam stand next to heaven's deadliest warrior?

Michael's finger coiled around the column of Sam's neck. "No, don't!" his voice weak. The archangel pulled his face so close that their noses touched. "Sam, you put me in Devil's box. I'm going to crush you to dust." With that the pressure on Sam's neck increased, his feet swaying, chest heaving, struggling to draw the needed breath. But the relentless angel lifted him off the ground firmly choking his victim. Sam clawed at the hand squeezing the air from his lungs but to no avail. Dark spots danced in his vision, his body jerking against the choking hold that Michael had on him. Michael's face was a cross between anger and delight.

"No, you don't get to pass out on the pain, yet" Michael warned and released his iron grip, only to knock Sam down on the hard concrete road. A painful moan escaped his lips when his head hit the ground. He coughed blood and gasped, his body working overtime to deal with the aftermath of being choked and slammed on to the unforgiving surface of the road.

Something grabbed at his collar and he was half hauled off the ground, his torso in air while the rest of him lay limp on the floor. A fist connected to his face, bruising him bone-deep. Another one landed under his ribs, his entire body shuddering against the assault. Punch after punch landed on his face, in his sides, in his abdomen and there nothing Sam could to protect himself against the attack. Michael was unleashing his fury with no restraint, beating and breaking his body. The sound of thunder was drowned by Sam's gasps and pitiful whimpers. Sam had no strength left in him to defend. He just laid there taking the beatings while making all kinds of appalling sounds.

Another bright flash of lightening hit the ground stopping Michael's fist just inches away from the hunter's bloodied face. He let go of Sam who sent a thank-you to whoever had distracted him enough to stop raining blows to his body. Powerless, he body fell back on the road.

"Get away from my vessel." Lucifer's voice thundered making Sam flinch and curl inward. _No, not Lucifer. Let it be anyone but him._

"You should thank me, Lucifer." Michael sounded distant, as if he was no longer crouching on him to smash his face in to pulp. "He cast us down. He deserves this."

"No." _No? Was Lucifer defending him?_

Sam's rapidly swelling eyes opened. Michael was still next to him if not crouching anymore. From his angle, he couldn't see Lucifer but every fiber in his beaten body was aware of his presence.

"He deserves more than this" and that made Sam's skin crawl. Of course Lucifer wasn't protecting him. He wanted Sam all for himself, that selfish bastard.

Another thunder hit the ground where Michael was standing. After the light died down, Michael was no longer there.

Deliberate, heavy footsteps got louder with every step, marking the arrival of Lucifer. A face filled in Sam's blurry vision. The man with blonde hair and steel blue eyes leaned down. Cold fingers wrapped around Sam's wrist. "Time for a cage tour, Sam" Lucifer cackled and began dragging Sam's body along the grating concrete. The hunter struggled against his grip but when Satan drags you to Hell, well, there's not much you can do but let him drag you to Hell.

Sam didn't know if he had lost consciousness or just died but when he came to, the surroundings were different than before. The road was gone, so was the thunder. When his vision cleared, for the first ever, Sam saw for sure he was in a cage. A cage that was bigger than Central Park, with dirty white crooked fence that stood at least two storeys high and ran all around connecting the ragged surfaces that formed the cage's floor and ceiling. The floor under Sam was biting into his skin as it was alive and to his horror something moved under his cheek.

Forgetting the pain that swam throughout his body and the sudden wave of nausea, Sam leapt to his feet. The floor was indeed moving, as if snakes were crawling underneath its leathery surface. Snakes with spikes.

"Oh hey Sam! Good to see you awake and kicking" Lucifer's face lit up in a grin. His cell mate had a beautiful expression of pure fear as his eyes were cast down to the floor. "Like the interior? Feels very alive, doesn't it?" Sam just shuddered and took another step away from the crawling floor, putting as much distance as he could.

For the first time, Sam's eyes met Lucifer's. Without their true vessels, the archangels had adapted to the shape of their previous vessels they had possessed; his father John in case of Michael and Nick in case of Lucifer.

"Go to hell" Sam didn't know where the bravado came from.

Lucifer feigned offence "But we're already there" he said slowly as if Sam was a little kid. "You put us here. Don't you remember?"

Sam had no time to retort because Lucifer lunged at him with a lightning speed, flying him off the creepy surface. It happened so fast that Sam didn't even realize half of it until his back was slammed into the bars of the cage, knocking the wind out of his body.

Before his mind cover recover from the sudden onslaught, his body was hoisted to the ceiling and then dropped mercilessly to the ground which surprisingly but unfortunately wasn't leathery anymore. Sam's body fell with a sickening thud, the sound of bones breaking loud in his ears. A fall like that should have killed him but it merely caused his vision to darken.

"You failed me, Sam" Lucifer roared with unbridled anger, his voice loud and threatening. Sam was pulled to ceiling once again, the action jarring his broken bones. He moaned and whimpered against the pain. Tears bled down his cheek as he quietly sobbed. Then the floor was rapidly racing towards him. The sound of his ribs breaking was loud but not as loud as the sound of his own scream ripping from his throat.

Lucifer continued the onslaught until all the bones in Sam's body were snapped and shattered.

He screamed, he moaned, he whimpered, he cried. He wanted to die. His body was mangled but he still couldn't die. _Why couldn't he die?_

Lucifer never knew when his anger had turned to amusement. What started as revenge had now turned into a sick sadistic torture game. Fight had left Sam's body long ago, now all he did was tremble and moan and scream. But he still wasn't doing that one thing that Lucifer wanted. _Beg_. But that was going to change soon.

And so, Lucifer dropped the body of 'Great Sam Winchester' one last time. The sound of skull cracking lit up Devil's face but what he cherished the most was the lyrical sound of the last gasp that escaped the bloodied lips of Sam.

-SPN-

AN: Tell me what you all think. Chapter 3, anyone?


	3. Chapter 3

AN: So i noticed this chapter was a little too messed up thanks to the conversion process. But it is fixed now. Sorry for the inconvenience.

Enjoy reading!

Chapter 3:

The faint sound of humming slowly seeped in Sam's brain as awareness was starting to stir inside him. He tried to force his eyes open but his brain was too slow, working at snail's pace and it seemed like the orders got lost in transmission. He let his brain catch up while trying to focus on his other senses. The humming continued in the background, undisturbed, its tune unfamiliar to Sam. The air around him was stale, damp even, like the air inside a warehouse that's been on a lock-down since the dawn of the time. His mouth stuck, dry so he tried parting his lips, unhinging his jaw. But his brain still hadn't picked up on any sign of conscious commands so Sam continued to listen to the unfamiliar hum, trying to figure out its source.

Slow and steady, his brain began to wake. First, it was the small movements like the rolling of his eyeballs followed by the flutter of his eyelids that had been sealed shut from the time Sam gained consciousness. Delayed, yet his mind started following the orders from few moments ago. His jaw began moving, opening and closing, tongue swirling to produce enough saliva to soak his dry-as-a-bone throat. It hurt at the first but the pain seemed to ease after couple of swallows.

With more awareness came the pain. He felt was a slow burning ache at the base of his shoulder blades. Any kinds of pain upon awakening set warning bells in Sam's mind, call it his survival instincts. His eyes snapped opened, their focus shifting in and out. When his vision cleared, he saw the same filthy bars of the cage that stood mighty and tall as the reminder of Sam's current fate.

 _Sigh_.

Hunter instinct kicking in, he decided to take an inventory of himself. The pain from his shoulders was growing it seemed, spreading up as it went to rest at his wrists. Following the path of his sinewy arms, he realized his hands were spread open and pulled above his head, hung from the ceiling with black ropes, his toes floating good inches above the surface.

That was when Sam groaned as the awful but obvious realization struck him. There was not a single piece of clothing on him. He groaned again not wanting to think what his state of undress meant.

He gave a tug, wanting to test them for weakness when a sharp pain cut in to his wrists. His mouth went dry again when he noticed that it wasn't a rope that bound his wrists but rather a barbwire, its sharp teeth already leeching into the soft skin of his wrists, blood slowly trailing down his outstretched arms. There was no way he was freeing out of this unscathed.

The familiar face of Lucifer's previous vessel, Nick, came in the line of his vision, delight of a five year old finding presents under the Christmas tree etched into his face. Humming the soft tunes, he slowly made his way to where Sam was hung, giddiness evident in his gait. It was strange seeing a Hell's Angel humming what felt like sweet, soothing melody. It was misplaced, so _wrong._

"What's up?" Leave it to Lucifer to crack puns on his grim situation.

"Just peachy seeing how you're back where you truly belong." Sam mocked, despite his discomfort. If Dean heard that, he would be so proud of Sam. But of course, Sam's cheeky retort had no effect on Lucifer, his smile never faltered, eyes still light with a glint of something that made a shiver run down Sam's spine, making his entire frame shudder, tugging viciously at his bonds.

"I know it's chilly down here, Sam" Someone who didn't know it was Lucifer inside that body would have fallen for his false sympathy, but not Sam. "But not for long." There was that fake smile again.

"What the hell does that mean?" Sam asked, finally conscious of his nakedness.

"All you need to know is that the situation that follows demands it." The Devil grinned, blue eyes twinkling with mischief. What situation would demand that? Though couple of disturbing imagery came to the hunter's mind, he didn't let his mind muddle over them longer than necessary.

"Let me go!" Sam barked but Lucifer just chuckled and another shudder ran down Sam's back. He took slow, casual steps towards his prisoner, walking in circle around Sam, loving the way his _true_ vessel held up his defiance even in his extremely vulnerable state. Bold but _stupid._ His lips twitched in appreciation. He had expected this, for Sam to defy, to rebel. That's what made Sam his one true vessel.

Sam's wrists were curling around, struggling to find some give, but the wires seemed to cut deeper, latching tightly on his wrists. Lucifer was now a breath away from him. He shivered, when Lucifer ran his hand along his side, a caress too gentle to come from the Devil himself. His fingers were running from his side to his back and then to his chest. "Let's warm you up!"

Fear crept in Sam's heart, not knowing for sure what those words meant. He tried to move, to shift away from the unwanted touch but the wires held him tight. To his relief, Lucifer backed away, taking his paws off him. However, his relief was short lived when he saw Lucifer drop down and pick something up from the ground that had missed Sam's attention before. His breath hitched seeing the whip coiled lose around his palm.

"Do you know what this is Sam?" he asked, testing the texture of the weapon.

"Whip" Sam answered, his confidence crumbling bit by bit as everything fell in place like a puzzle. Lucifer sneered, expression as cold as ice, his voice receding as he walked to face Sam's back. "Not just any whip. It is the Knout, the best of whips. And I wouldn't settle for anything but the best for you, Sam."

Nothing prepared Sam for the first blow that struck the sore spot right between his shoulders, splitting the skin open on the very first strike itself. "Ah!" the groan passed before Sam could swallow it down, the welt already leaking blood. The next lash landed at the base of Sam's back, his body jerking like a fish out of water against the bonds, breath labored drawing out in shallow pants. Another crack had his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, tearing the soft flesh, filling his mouth with the metallic taste of blood.

 _Crack!_

This one tearing his skin open from his left shoulder to right side of his hip, crossing the previous two welts, knocking his breath away. Tears trickled down his face as a broken sob escaped his torn lips. Blood, warm and sticky, ran from the welts on the clammy skin of his back down to his swaying feet where it pooled in a small puddle.

Lucifer was in a frenzy, seeing the blood of his vessel deliciously dripping down the length of his tall frame, cords of muscles rippling underneath the miles of tanned, sweat soaked skin every time the whip cut through the air, his pained moans an added incentive to break the man before him.

With a flick of his wrist, Lucifer lashed again at the trembling body hanging in his cage.

"Aaaaaahhhhhhhh!" the scream ripped from Sam's throat, loud and echoing. He saw stars and his vision faded to white. His body gave another violent jerk, still hanging from the merciless wires which cut deeper every time he was whipped, threatening to cut off his wrists. Blood from punctures on his wrists, trailed down his arms, pooling at his collarbone and spilling off to join other rivulets of free flowing blood down his back.

Sam was given no moment to catch his breath as Lucifer whipped him again, always finding a new patch of skin to split open.

"Ah!" Holding back his scream was difficult with every passing minute, with every brutal lash that threatened to splint his spine. His strength was leaving his body with every whip that spilled rivers and rivers of his blood. Lucifer's lashes were harsh, the tight braided leather biting in to his back, ripping the skin open, tearing his flesh.

Sam sobbed loudly, sagged heavily at the mercy of his barbed bonds.

He screamed as Lucifer mercilessly whipped his back, one blow after another watching the former boy-king thrashing in his restraints, pulling at them only to cut his palms bloody. He lashed at Sam until the skin of his back began to peel off in strips, pulling his bleeding muscles as they went.

Sam screamed the loudest when the whip tore the bits and chunks off his back falling in the much larger blood puddle below his feet.

"S-stop" his soft plea barely audible over the array of painful noises. "P-please Luc'fer... S-stop…"

There was silence all around Sam except for the sound of his erratic breathing and dripping of his blood. Few seconds later, shuffling behind him gave away the presence of Lucifer as he came to stand before Sam, his boots carelessly stepping into the puddle of blood. Sam's blood.

"What did you say?" Lucifer asked, brushing the strands of hair away from his face with the whip handle.

"S-stop, p-please…" Sam mumbled, lips trembling, his voice scratchy from screaming endlessly. The whip handle slid across his face to his split lip, blood trickling down its corner. "N-no more, p-please…"

"But Sam, you suffer so _beautifully_." A heavy sob broke from Sam's heaving chest at Lucifer's cruel words. His back was hot and it was cold, neither of them giving him the comfort that his body longed for. His torn wrists were another story. He wanted it to stop, the pain in his arms, the burning in his back, the stabbing at his ruptured throat, the deep and heavy sobs that wrecked through his suspended body adding more to his existing pain.

"P-please please, plea-" But Lucifer cut him off, a cold hand carding through his sweat slicked hair. "Shh, shh, shh, shh" his calm voice hushed him but it held no comfort. "I'll stop, hush now."

Sam's eyes looked up at Lucifer, not believing that the Devil was showing him kindness. Lucifer's face was disturbingly calm as always, lips tugged in a smile wrinkling the skin around his frosty eyes.

Pulling his hand from Sam's hair, Lucifer walked away from Sam, out of his sight, somewhere behind him. Sam's body sagged in relief but the pain was still coursing through him.

"I'll stop," he said before flicking his wrist in air again, "once I peel off all the flesh from your bones" and lashed the whip hard and fast at his prisoner's unsuspecting back. Sam's eyes snapped open, willing his head to look at Lucifer. The broken pleas of "No, no, no, please don't plea - _ah_ -" dying in his throat replaced by the agonizing scream, as the whip cut deep in to the raw back of the helpless Winchester.

He let his head drop, seeing violent flashes of bright light behind his clenched eyes. It was too late for anything except take all the harsh, cruel and merciless whipping like some kind caged animal. There was no denying, that's what he was, a wild animal, drinking blood, _demon blood_ , an animal that deserved to be whipped until all his sins were washed off. And so Sam resigned, let his mind wander away from this awful fate while his body flinched violently with every lash that promised to peel ribbons of flesh off his bones.

-SPN-

His eyes opened, the ceiling staring back at him was different but not unfamiliar just like the bed. It wasn't one of those hard spring mattresses that he and his brother were used to in the cheap motels they grew up in; it was soft enough that it cocooned his body. The comfortably large queen bed he was on dipped as someone shuffled next to him. He turned towards the movement, eyes admiring the black as night silky hair that lay tangled across the gentle slope of olive back bared to him. The white sheets covered the sleeping figure from waist down. Wanting to savor the pleasant morning, his hand reached the supple waist as he pulled the prone form into his chest, his nose inhaling the scent of her strawberry and peach shampoo.

"Mmmm" she purred, turning her face around to snuggle in his warmth. "Morning. Sleep okay?" She turned away, struggling as the man next to didn't let go off her, reaching for the digital clock on the table next to the bed.

5.23 AM

"Yes and no" he answered, voice gruff as always, sleep having nothing to do with that. She faced him again but his eyes were shut as if willing them to forget a horrible nightmare. "I'll make you some coffee." She offered, shimming out of his hold. "Don't leave me, Lisa" the urgency she had never heard in his voice before rang alarm bells in her drowsy mind. "Dean, baby, I'm not leaving you." Lisa hurried back into his willing arms, letting Dean hold her as close and as tight as he needed to. The moment Dean showed up last night at her door step, she had promised herself she wasn't going to grill him about his life on the road. He would tell her if and when he was ready. If not, she would be fine then as well. So instead of asking him anything else, she put her arms around him, rubbing his back tenderly as she soothed him into sleep.

Breakfast in bed was one of the luxuries that Dean Winchester never enjoyed during his life on road. So when Lisa placed a tray full of syrup soaked pancakes, a bowl of cereal, a plate of scrambled eggs and toasts along with a large cup of coffee over his thighs, Dean didn't know what to do anymore. "Is something wrong? Do you need something else to go with that?" Lisa asked, a serious concern marking her face. "No, no, Liz, it's perfect. I –I just –" Dean stammered, unsure how to say it without upsetting her. "I should be the one taking care of you. It's who I am."

To his surprise, Lisa smiled, and a genuine smile of delight at that one. "Baby, it's about time someone cared for you, don't you think?" She leaned in, crushing her soft lips to his plump ones, eliciting a moan out of him, tongues swirling for dominance as the breakfast lay forgotten between them.

-SPN-

 _Perfect_.

That was one way for the Devil to describe Sam's tattered back.

Lucifer stood watching, admiring his handiwork. He was truly an artist with that whip of his, drenched in blood. Flesh was peeled off the man's body clean, making the ridges of his pale ribs stand out in contrast to all the blood. Sam was still suspended from the cruel wires, wrists frayed, giving way to the wires to twist around now visible bones. The entire length of his body was quivering like a straw in the hurricane.

His prisoner had stopped screaming a long time ago, whether in defeat or disability, he didn't know. The blood, that once gushed with wild force now sluggishly rolled off in rivulets, dribbling drops chasing one another to fall in the puddle under his swaying feet.

"Did you know a person can die like this?" Lucifer asked, moving behind Sam's vulnerable body, close enough that the man flinched away from his coldness but not so close that their bodies made contact. The sound that Sam made was one between a whimper and a groan. "Forty rampant lashes and it's good night for the victim. But not you Sam, you're special, _my_ vessel after all." Lucifer whispered in his ear. "You survived forty –" licked softly under the shell, chuckling at his captive's obvious discomfort "and then some."

"Care to guess the magic number, Sam?" His voice far away now, no more dripping poison in his ears, but still close to trigger the shivers through his exposed spine. Sam was too out of it to comprehend his words, let alone answer. His mind kept drifting in and out, only registering the pain and discomfort that was running through his body like his own blood. When Sam didn't answer except for incoherent mumbles and soft sobs, "Ninety-three" Lucifer offered trailing one cold finger down the length of Sam's flesh stripped vertebrae, jarring the poor human as he tried to curl away from the intruding touch.

The oh-so cold finger traced every peak and dip in Sam's spine, spreading the biting frost throughout his tired frame. "You took it all like a good boy, didn't you?" Lucifer approved sounding like a proud parent. "I bet you can take some more." Sam's hazel eyes snapped open in fear locking with Lucifer's icy blue ones. A plea swimming in the ocean of his tear rimmed eyes. Sam shook his head weakly, "No" the word nothing over a whisper. Fresh tears rolled down the plane of his cheek as Lucifer countered, "Yes, Sam."

Eyes screwing shut as more tears welled up and trickled down the edges, Sam tried again, "N-no please –" quiet hiccups breaking out from his chest, "No m-more, please no more…" But Satan just continued as if Sam didn't speak at all. "Since there is no more skin left on your back to work on, let's start with a fresh canvas." He trailed his finger over Sam's bronze chest, hinting what Lucifer was going to work on. Right away Sam started thrashing in his bonds not caring if they were sawing into his bones. He knew for sure he was not going to survive the blows from the whip on his torso. As if snooping around Sam's brain, confirming his deepest fears, Lucifer carried on, "They say that couple of harsh lashes across a person's chest would lead to injuries to vital organs, in turn causing death." He walked away from Sam who was sobbing and shaking his head in denial, cracking the whip on the ground near Sam, the thunder of the whip causing a violent flinch in his strung up form.

"I suggest you tip that chin up. Wouldn't want the skin of your pretty face to fall off now, would we?" As Lucifer raised the handle up and pulled over his shoulder ready to strike, Sam lifted his head up, prayer spilling from his split lips, not to be saved but for his life to ebb away, snatching him from the excruciating pain he knew would strike any moment.

The sound of the whip striking against his chest was loud but the cry that tore from Sam was heartbreakingly earsplitting.

-SPN-

AN: Was I too hard on Sam? But he _does_ suffer beautifully, doesn't he?

Feel free to share your thoughts with me…


	4. Chapter 4

AN: So I noticed that in Chapter 3 few words were skipped/misspelled. I went back and checked my document but turns out something went wrong when I directly uploaded the Word document. The conversion process somehow jumbled a few things. I also realized that it didn't show enough space between the change in the scenes making the shifts a bit confusing and tedious to read. For that I apologize deeply and I've fixed it now. To avoid this nuisance in future, I'm going back to the copy-paste method.

Kas3cy thank you for your kind reviews. I look forward to them as they keep me motivated.

Aslack, CrazyPoetin, Kas3y, thank you for Story Alert/Favorite. You guys make my day! And thank you to everyone who is reading!

Here's the next chapter… Enjoy reading!

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 **Chapter 4:**

 _Cold_.  
Cold that penetrated deep into his body, right to the marrow in his bone was how Sam knew he was still in Lucifer's Cage. It was the kind of cold that settled in his very soul like a heavy lead block, constantly pulling, wearying him down. Despite covered in three layers of clothing –yes he didn't wake up naked and strung by thorny wires this time and for that he was glad– his body felt like it was in a constant state of hypothermia.

Sam pushed his body in a sitting position, eyes taking in the gloomy interiors of the cage. For whatever reasons unknown to him, Lucifer was nowhere in sight and it gave him some sense of security. That also presented the window of opportunity that Sam was hoping for but didn't expect it this soon. Without Lucifer around he could try to escape.

The Cage was made to hold the most evil and powerful being to ever exist, so finding a weakness wasn't going to be easy. Sam knew that. Lucifer would have broken through a long time ago otherwise. He knew it was futile, testing the bars of the cage to find a weak spot but Sam wasn't going to just sit on his hands and wait for Lucifer to return with a far grisly torture technique than the previous one.

The memories flooded in, bringing back the ghastly torture and its unbearable pain. His breathing hitched up a notch as his heart hammered against his chest. The gruesome images of his flesh peeling and blood spilling accompanied with the disturbing sound of his rib-cage shattering over the screams of his pain riled up the nausea to his throat. He held on to the prison bars as his knees gave out under him, gagging at the sour taste that pooled in his mouth. He coughed, his chest burning from empty heaving. Resting his head along the pale bars, Sam tried to breathe the frigid air. It soothed his aching lungs.

The young hunter opened his eyes –mere slits– but they settled on one of the chalky bars, where his head was still rested against them. He threw his body off the bars, on to the cold floor as he realized for the first time why the bars had been pale and white unlike the usual metal bars. The cage wasn't made up of metal. It was made from bones, human bones; something Sam had seen enough in his life to recognize it when he saw one.

Up close, he could make out the femur, humerus, vertebrae stacked over one another to form bones tall enough to run from the floor to the ceiling. Smaller bones like phalanges, ribs and plenty others that Sam couldn't name were fused together into a big bone.

 _Whose bones were they?_ Sam didn't know if the bones truly belonged to someone. How could they when it was Lucifer alone all these years in the cage. Maybe it was just one of the hallucinations like he had conjured that one time with the floor.

If the bars were made from bones, maybe he could break it apart. So Sam looked around for something hard and heavy to throw against the cage but when he found nothing, he tried the old way. Shoulder to the bars. He slammed his shoulder against the cage, bone against bone, each time colliding with more vigor than before. He bruised his shoulder but the cell didn't give. Defeated, he rested his bruised shoulder against the boned bars, trying to regulate his shallow breaths.

"There is no way out, Sam." The disembodied voice pulled Sam from his pain. He turned around, coming face to face with young John. "Michael?"

"Why do you look like you have seen a ghost?" Truth was, ghosts didn't scare Sam, but archangel wearing the face of his father unnerved him. No matter how many times he saw him, Sam was never going to be comfortable about it. Michael smiled, slow and dangerous, his eyes preying on Sam who held his bruised shoulder protectively to his body. "You were the one who hauled me to the Cage, remember?"

Of course Sam remembered, it wasn't just Michael he was dragging into the Cage; it was his brother as well, half-brother but no less a brother. The same brother who faded into nothingness the last time he saw him.

"I do", Sam answered, "I also remember Lucifer smoking your _precious_ ass the last time you broke my face."

Michael glowered at the mention of his infamous brother. "That banishing spell that Lucifer tweaked to cast me to the extreme recesses of this Cage? It was clever, I'll accept that but not enough. It didn't take me long to find you. Remind me to thank my brother for leaving you unprotected in his… _dungeon_ , is it?" Sam swallowed cautiously, his Adam's apple bobbing. "A cage inside a Cage! Funny sense of humor my brother has. I almost miss it. _Almost_."

"Why don't you go have the awaited family reunion then?" the hunter mocked.

Michael sneered, "Oh we will, given that none of us are going anywhere soon." Then he laughed, the sound grating and raucous. "Did you really think you could break through the bars? Even if you did, where would you go, Sam? You would still be in the Cage, the one without the bars but still imprisoning nevertheless. There is no exit."

It was Sam's turn to chuckle, "Seeing how you're still here, I'm betting there is no exit for you either." The archangel remained silent, eyes narrowing, lips pulled back in a snarl. "What happened? You weren't daddy's good little bitch anymore?"

Sam's back slammed hard against the cage knocking the wind out of his lungs. He had hit the nerve with that one. "Daddy doesn't give a rat's ass anymore about what happens to his obedient little soldier?" Michael lifted his hand and an invisible fist rammed straight into his gut. He doubled over spewing blood, arms pressed against the abused abdomen.

"Watch your tongue, Sam!" Michael chided.

"I'm sorry." Sam offered, hazel greens staring from under the curtain of chestnut brown hair. "Obedient _little bitch,_ isn't it?"

He was slammed again, a choking grip squeezing the air out of his lungs. "So w-what, now you and Lucifer are t-taking turns to t-torture me?" He gasped, "I-Is that how t-this goes?"

Michael's eyebrows furrowed, etching deep lines on his forehead as he tilted his head by a small degree to his side. "You think this about torture?" to which Sam smiled despite the grip on his throat, further confusing the archangel in front of him. "This is about _payback_ , Sam. Torture is simply a tool."

"P-payback for w-what? For shipping your f-feathery ass to this place?" Sam fumed, the pressure going down by a fraction "Because f-from where I stand, neither of the t-two of you are meant to be on earth. The world is better off without monsters like you!"

His expressions changed from confused to amused and finally rested with offence. "We both know the real monster, don't we?" Sam chose not to answer, his eyes cast down in shameful acceptance. "You condemned your own kind when you let my brother free."

Suddenly, the pressure was gone. Sam sagged and then leaned on the bars, drawing air to his lungs. "I know what I did." He said after a couple of seconds. "But I fixed it."

The archangel wasn't convinced, "This is your redemption then?" It was enticing to dishearten the hunter in front of him. Lucifer sure chose the right vessel.

Sam scoffed, eyebrows rising to his hair, chin soared. "What do _you_ know about redemption?"

 _Caged with the Devil, choked to almost death and yet the defiance was ever present._ Michael discovered a genuine pleasure in that. Breaking the defiant ones is what made the retribution pleasant. He flashed his cold smile again, "I know enough about redemption to know it doesn't go without punishment. All sinners have to be punished, Sam, you know that."

Sam leaned heavily, the bony bars digging into his back. Michael kept making slow, cautious advances but stopped at a car's distance. The hunter held on to the bones caging them, waiting for Michael to strike again. But it never came. Instead, his hands were pulled above his head and were held by the same invisible force "Gahh!" He cried as the action jarred his bruised shoulder. He tried to pull his wrists free but they were held tight. A crackling sound filled the cage. His gaze shifted from his wrists back where the archangel was. A ring of fire surrounded Sam, the flames rising tall enough to obscure Michael and his delightful expression which Sam had no doubt was plastered on the familiar face.

Sweat beaded on Sam's flushed face as the temperature inside the blazing ring rose. His eyes locked in on the hypnotic stance of the flames that were slowly closing in on him. The orange flames were dancing closer and closer to Sam's bound frame, seducing him to his next painful death.

"Fire of any kind, holy or otherwise has always been able to purge all the sinners of their sins." Michael's honeyed voice carried over the sound of the sizzling fire. "It will cleanse you, but it won't set you free, Sam. You'll _never_ leave here." Sam's heart sank deeper at those words. Within him, he knew how true those words were. His redemption was for all eternity as was the suffering at the hands of the two most vicious archangels. This wasn't his salvation; it was his _damnation_ for liberating Lucifer out of his cage.

The fire was closing in; it's heat unbearable as Sam sweat profusely. His hair sodden and matted on his face, his clothes plastered to his skin, his body drenched in this own sweat. The hot air was difficult to breathe, leaving Sam breathless and dizzy. Being denied the oxygen needed, put his body in distress ebbing away his strength. He choked on the smoke as he tried to swallow the air, the heat burning the passage down to his lungs. They hurt too much from working markedly hard to absorb the precious oxygen.

The orange ribbons of carnage continued to leap at him. He turned his head sideways to avoid the fire from catching his face. " _Ah_!" Sam yelped. The flaming tongues licked small spots on Sam's exposed neck, charring a hot trail to his jaw, his cheek. The heat was excruciatingly insufferable, blistering at Sam's skin. It hadn't consumed him yet. But it was playing with him, scorching the sensitive patches of his reddened flesh.

The archangel stood watching, enjoying the obvious agony the hunter was in. Like a wingless insect, Sam was trembling, recoiling from the fire, sniveling when he failed as the flames burned him, slowly.

"No!" Sam screamed. "Ahhhhhhhhh!"

-SPN-

The dim light illuminated the wooden floor casting a soft glow on Dean's face as he reached in and pulled a bottle of beer from the fridge. Taking his seat at one of the chairs around the dining table, the restive hunter unscrewed the cap. This was the fifth sleepless night in a row. He had had better sleep in the vexing motel beds and in the confining seat of the Impala than in Lisa's comforting bed. But Dean knew the bed had nothing to do with his insomnia, it was the person or rather the _absence_ of that person which made his nights longer.

Dean always slept peacefully when Sam was in the same room or at least when he was certain that Sam was safe and sound no matter which hemisphere he was in. But that wasn't the case anymore. Sam was in the worst place anyone could ever be. From first-hand experience, Dean knew how unthinkably horrific Hell was, and yet he could not fathom what was it like for Sam who was in a Cage with Lucifer _and_ Michael; two of the fiercest archangels, each with their own personal vendetta against his powerless baby brother. He shuddered in his seat.

"Cas", he prayed to the angel he had befriended, "If you're listening, please, please look after Sam." Tears burned in the back of his eyes, the proverbial lump settling in his throat, "I'm not asking you to bring him back, but just, please, if you can, God, please let him rest in peace." Dean swallowed his sob with a mouthful of his bitter beer. The memory from days ago still fresh in his flustered mind.

He watched his brother take the leap into eternity long suffering, the ground greedily engulfing him up, leaving no body to hold on to and cry. The surviving Winchester was on his knees watching everything he loved being snatched away from him. Sam was gone. Bobby was dead. Castiel was disintegrated to molecules. But Dean, he was left behind to carry the loneliness for the rest of his existence.

Hours later, the familiar fluttering of wings had pulled him from his sorrow-ridden reverie as he looked into the cerulean eyes of his friend angel. Warmth flooded his body when Castiel had healed his wounds. He thought Cas was God but the angel had simply denied, calling it a pleasant compliment and not a revelation. With the touch of his fingers, he even brought Bobby back who was as flabbergasted as Dean. Having Bobby did close some open wounds to his heart but no one could fill the empty void in his soul that was left by Sam's absence. Not even Lisa. Every night that void haunted Dean, threatened to devour his entire soul.

The final conversation between Castiel and him in the Impala was uncomfortable. Castiel had picked up on his anger and damn straight he was angry. Yes, Cas and Bobby were alright but his Sammy wasn't. The kid was suffering, so how could Dean be _not_ angry? But Castiel had reminded his hunter friend that he had what he wanted.

Anyone who knew the Winchester brothers well were aware that Sam always sought out freedom and Dean always looked for peace. Yet, this one time Dean grabbed at freedom and Sam chose peace. For the first time since he was four, Dean was free. Free from having to carry the responsibility of his baby brother and fulfilling the duties of both absent parents. He was free from the family business now that he made his brother a promise to leave this life behind for Sammy's sake.

Sam on the other hand chose peace at the cost of lifelong captivity. A choice Sam had made peace with and Dean knew that. He might not have liked it but he understood. Where Sam was, he might not be at a peaceful state but he was in peace with himself knowing that his imprisonment had done the world a lot of good than his freedom ever had.

-SPN-

Hands behind his back like a perfectly good soldier, Michael observed Sam who was writhing in his bonds, eyes clenched, gasping hard and deep between the screams that echoed throughout the Hell. The fire had enveloped him, burnt his clothes to ashes. It was melting his skin now, setting his insides ablaze. His cries and screams begged for mercy but mercy wasn't this archangel's virtue. Michael believed in justice, and what was happening to Sam was nothing more than justice being served against his heinous crimes.

Hell was unforgiving in a way that it kept its prisoners alive until their last breath. There was no option of passing out from pain. The condemned suffered until the final precious essence of their lives ebbed away. That's what made Hell the cauldron of ultimate suffering. A human body like that of Sam would have protected him from the agony by shutting down his consciousness. But Hell didn't allow it and Michael was glad for that. Sam deserved what was coming to him, every single ounce of agony.

The putrid stench of the burning flesh and the fizzling sound of his blood boiling drowned away any conscious thought that crossed Sam's mind. It was solely concentrated on the scalding pain of the fire that consumed his entire being. There was pain, so much pain, radiating hot like molten lava. It burned and it hurt. Sam cried in agony but the fire absorbed his tears even before they rolled down to his cheek. He gasped helplessly trying to breathe around the choking scent of his burning flesh and blood. Words died in his throat. What came out were garbled noises and broken cries, a pathetic half attempt at breathing. The cruelest thing next to being burned alive was having his wrists secured above his head, holding him in place like a witch being burnt at stake. Michael was successful in proving his point: Sam was a monster and a monster must die like one.

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AN: I would love to hear your thoughts. In case you have any queries, I'll be happy to clear things up.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:** Apologies for not uploading a new chapter last week, I was away from decent internet connection. So, to make it up to you guys, here is a fairly long chapter.

Before I begin a hearty thank you to all my readers!

 **Kas3y:** You have been there from the start and I can't find enough words to thank you for reading and reviewing every single chapter since. I appreciate your kindness; it helps me to challenge myself into writing better chapters.

 **Sammysmissingshoe:** Thank you for taking the time out to review my story by telling me specifically what you have liked so far. It helps me make my story reader-oriented. I truly appreciate your efforts for picking out minute details from my story and being so generous with your reviews!

Thank you to those who Favorite/Follow my fic!

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

 _The Autopsy of Sam Winchester._  
That was what Lucifer was calling his next form of torture he had in mind for Sam. It didn't take a genius to guess what it was going to be.

The white lab coat that the Devil had donned was big enough clue to verify Sam's fear. There was no question as to who was going play the cadaver.

Sam was already strapped to a metal table, a cliché from medical horrors, with only a flimsy white sterile sheet covering his otherwise bare body. It wasn't for modesty but merely to add to the theatrics; something the twisted archangel was always too fond of.

 _Yours truly_ , Evil Lord had also gone to the extent of placing a body block under Sam's head to keep it elevated so that Sam didn't miss out on anything. After all, he wanted what was best for Sam. _Most of the times_.

"Are you ready, Sam?" Lucifer asked enthusiastically, then smacked his head with a gloved hand, the scalpel's sharp edge glinting menacingly catching Sam's attention, "You're supposed to be the cadaver. Cadavers don't talk."

How Lucifer turned everything into a joke was beyond Sam's understanding. But right now, he had others things to worry about; being subjected to body horrors was on top of the list.

"Let's get started!" Sam didn't understand why Lucifer indulged in live commentary during the torture. Why couldn't he just hack and dice or singe and scald like Michael? At least that had felt like a cold blooded torture. This friendly conversation crap was somehow unsettling and it bothered Sam more than he was willing to let on; just the like the scalpel that Lucifer was trailing under his chin.

Cold air hit Sam's sweaty body making him shiver as Lucifer yanked the sheet off and Sam felt a different kind of vulnerability from being exposed that he never felt before, not even when Lucifer had him hung from by the barbwires and whipped him to the bone.

"Recently dead, I would say", Lucifer began the inspection, smiling as he went on probing his prone form with finger that felt like sharp icicles even though they were wrapper in rubber gloves, rambling all sorts of -some even _incorrect_ \- medical observations. "No signs of struggle", a cold hand gripped his jaw, turning his head side to side, "Cause seems to be suicide", he remarked, meeting Sam's very lively eyes. "Jumping in the pit with the Devil is suicidal, isn't it?"

As Sam opened his mouth to speak, Lucifer stopped him, "Shh, you're dead, Sam. Don't you forget that."

"Now we'll begin the internal diagnosis", Lucifer announced to no one in particular but mostly to make Sam further more uncomfortable. "Be very still, Sam" he warned, and Sam shifted uncomfortably as the hair splittingly sharp tool descended to his skin.

The body block elevating his head gave him the entire view of his long body stretched out at the mercy of the Dark Archangel. "Don't", he implored and screamed as the razor-sharp edge bit into his skin.

The scalpel cut under his left clavicle, a hiss escaping between his lips quickly followed by a grunt. He gasped loudly as the blade was dragged across his smooth skin to the centre of his sternum. The incision already oozing with blood; a burning sensation developing at the tear.

Lucifer took the scalpel drenched in Sam's blood and placed it under his right clavicle.

The edge pushed in, cutting through the layers of skin, muscles and tissues as a similar incision was made to the meet the previous one in the centre.

Tears filled Sam's eyes, the incisions setting his chest on fire. Through blurry vision, he saw the bloody cut that resembled a wide angled letter V. He shook his head miserably as Lucifer brought the tool to his skin once again.

Sam cried in pain when Lucifer pushed the blade at the intersection of the incisions and dragged it south to his navel, slowly cutting Sam open.

Warm blood spread all across his chest, flowing down the slope of his torso down to his sides, on to the surgical table. He felt the wetness when it continued to spill, reaching under his hands, his fingers strapped at his side with thick steel cuffs.

Sam knew enough to know what was coming next.

Lucifer dropped the bloody instrument in the tray where it landed with a clang suggesting it wasn't the only tool in the picture.

Sam watched in horror, as Lucifer slowly drove his hands into the freshly made vertical incision with his finger pulling open his split skin. His body trembled in shock and pain at the intrusion as they unwrapped the skin of his torso. He struggled but the hard metal cuffs around his wrists and ankles were tough against his weak attempts.

The pain was at its epitome as the fingers reached under his skin, opening the other two incisions in similar fashion. His misty eyes blinking rapidly, breaths too shallow, heart throbbing hard and fast in the confines of his rib-cage.

"Stop!" he screamed, thrashing hard against the horrible pain, but Lucifer was just getting started. Skin flayed and chest torn open; tears ran down his eyes, wet and sticky, disappearing into his hair. He balled his fist, nails digging into the palms, drawing more blood; the erratic palpitation too loud and frantic.

The cuffs on the white coat that Lucifer was wearing were slick with blood, drinking the crimson liquid like a tissue paper. The archangel pulled his blood coated hands and stood examining the specimen in front of him. Sam's complexion had paled next to the vibrant red liquid flowing from the cuts; his torn chest rising and falling in quick rhythm.

Lucifer's mischievous blues met Sam's hazel greens puppy eyes. They were wide, full of fresh, hot tears and there was so much pain and fear in them. Yet, under all of that was the vexing defiance.

With a wet sound, Lucifer pulled the rubber gloves off his hands. Making sure that Sam's teary eyes followed, he once again reached inside him with hands as bare as Sam's body.

Fingers that promised frost bites began to crawl inside Sam, under his skin, touching places that shouldn't be touched. It was like winter inside his chest, the uninvited digits and their violating caresses drawing away all the heat.

"Gahh!" Sam cried, the pain too unaccustomed to brace against. He never had his insides fondled before. It was sick and abusing on levels even he couldn't explain.

"It's warm in here, Sam" Lucifer teased, hands elbow deep in his chest, and long fingers squeezing and kneading Sam's inside.

Sam jerked his head from side to side, as the fingers continued to move inside him. The noises it made were a disturbing combination of sick wet and squelchy sounds. They grazed his organs, pawing at them, squeezing some, scratching others.

Dewy eyed, Sam watched, Lucifer's hand swimming in his insides, the pain of the foreign body too excruciating.

"Let's see if these are as long as they say." Sam didn't know what Lucifer was talking about until he felt a tugging in his abdomen which turned sharp and red hot stinging as something was pulled inside.

The restrained man screamed, long, loud and shrill when Lucifer wrenched his hands out, fleshy ropes of his intestine tangled among his blood wet fingers. Length after length of Sam's guts were pulled out by the Devil who looked satisfyingly amused and kept going back to disembowel the defenseless man. Like a magician pulling out infinite handkerchief, Lucifer kept tugging at Sam's entrails until there were none while he moaned and cried. The alimentary canals landed on the surface of the cage with a wet slap.

Sam was so cold and a writhing mess; his eyes blinking rapidly on their own accord, chest trembling so hard it was difficult to tell the rise and fall of his shallow breaths from the shudders that wrecked through his long body.

This was what it was like to be in Hell, in Lucifer's Cage. This was what the rest of his existence was going to be like, if he could call it an existence at all.

 _A ghastly carnival of sinister torment._

"Dean!" Sam cried his brother's name in shaky whisper as the twisted Archangel ripped another organ from his body letting it drop with a sick sound on the floor with the rest of his entrails. The part where the pain pulsed like an entity in itself told Sam it was one of his livers that was separated from his body.

"I don't want to hear that name!" warned Lucifer, pure anger seething from his otherwise calm demeanor. In the fog of the pain and suffering, it took Sam some time before he grasped what he meant.

 _Dean._

It didn't occur to the young man that he had screamed for his brother. He must have done that out of habit and not choice, not here in the Cage at least. Sam didn't want any part of Dean within the walls of the cage. Dean was too good for this god forsaken place.

So Sam clamped his lips together tightly, Lucifer's hands reaching inside him again and then pulling out with what looked like his other liver. Sam's eyes rolled back in his head; stars were exploding in his vision but darkness was playing hard to get.

He just laid there whimpering, shivering, and crying as the devil emptied his chest one organ after another. "I never said I wanted you to stop screaming", Lucifer pointed as cold fingers started stroking Sam's right lung, the pitiable man coughing and gasping for air that was suddenly cut off when those fingers cruelly squeezed the mass of tissues. "Scream for me, Sam!" he yelled and crushed the organ in iron grip. Sam thrashed at the lack of air, chest bucking wild, mouth open in silent scream, a fresh stream of tears flowing urgently from his clenched eyes.

"Scream!" the voice boomed loud and commanding but Sam failed to follow through. He wanted to scream, scream so hard but the abused lung wouldn't let him even breathe. Screaming was a distant dream to him.

Lucifer gained such delightful pleasure from the man's predicament. It was scenic how he trembled like bait on a hook. His extensive body covered in a delicious combination of sweat and blood, eyes fluttering unable to decide between remaining open and watching the horror or shutting fast and feeling the agony, a small trickle of blood dripping down his mouth, following the action of the tears and disappearing in his soft hair. His blood soaked lips were beautifully stretched around the silent scream that never made past that mouth. Sam Winchester's suffering was _poetic_.

"C'mon Sam, I know you can do better than this. Are you going to defy me?" Sam was gasping now, lips turning blue as his body fought for the precious air. "You're not going to like the consequences. Just one scream, one wittle sqweem." Lucifer pushed childishly.

There was no way Sam was going to be able to scream, not with the Devil clutching his lung in his claws. His body just gasped and coughed and followed through other pathetic actions like sobbing but there was no sound.

Then the pressure was gone, the breathless hunter coughed and drew a mouthful of air and then some, his abused lung screaming in protest. "Be like that", Lucifer chided. "I gave you the choice to scream once but you didn't. Now the only thing you'll do is screaming", the devil promised.

So far he kept all his promises.

He pulled his hands away, letting Sam catch his breath.

The instruments in the tray collided against each other, creating grating chimes as Lucifer's hand rummaged to pick the next tool. Sam eyes watched in sick fascination at the tool between the Devil's hand; the tool he was very much likely to use on him. "You know what these are?" Lucifer asked, holding the object close to Sam for inspection.

It resembled something like a pair of pliers but with pointy sharp edges. If Sam had to guess he was going to go with pliers. He looked from the tool to Lucifer's expectant face. "At least take a guess. After all, you're the Winchester that went to Stanford." Lucifer mocked his ex-career path in a manner similar to what Dean used to do when he expected Sam to go all geek on him.

 _No, there was nothing similar between the Devil and his Dean_.

Lucifer was still waiting on Sam and if he thought Sam was just going to give it to him, the Devil had another thing coming. So, he continued to stare back in the face of the fallen one, guaranteeing him that that was the only answer he was going to get and then his eyes shifted to the gray ceiling of the cage; his silent defiance confident even in his tear filled eyes.

"Very disappointed in you, Geeky-boy" Lucifer grimaced, face masked in complete disdain at the insolence that was rolling so thickly off the Winchester that it tasted bitter in his mouth. But that was going to change any minute now.

"These are bone shears", Lucifer educated, waiting for the information to sink in and register in his pain fogged mind and when it did, the fear replacing the defiance was no less enticing than a striptease. _Time to get that delicious fear brewing_. "A snip here," Lucifer said giddily, the tip of the shears tapping against the hunter's rib, soft groans spilling from his lips. "A snap there," the next tap on the rib underneath. "A few here and there" several more taps across and the around the general area of his ribs. Sam's fingers fisted, clenching tight, pulling futilely at the stubborn bonds.

Thanks to the block under his head, Sam had front row seats to the approaching massacre. What was it about not being able to look away from mutilation of one's own body? Sam had broken enough bones to know which ones hurt like a bitch; ribs were definitely on the list; a gentle bruising could pull pained moans from him, he could only imagine what snipping would do. And this was different because Lucifer kept revealing the next horrendous deed that he was going to do to Sam's trussed up body which had his over-working brain imagining the worst pains even before he was hit with it. The anticipation of the torture was a torture in itself.

Sam grunted as the sharp prongs latched on to one of ribs, jarring his entire cage and then howled in pain when the shears cut his rib, near the sternum, the crack echoing throughout the Cage. Lucifer cut into his ribs with such ease as if they were twigs rather than concrete hard, calcium leaden bones. If pain were an entity, now would be the time it would possess Sam. It seeped into his very fiber becoming one with him, keeping his body in a constant state of agony.

The Devil was picking the bones -no pun intended- from Sam's lithe body singing a song that Sam didn't recognize but it was definitely about how each bone was connected to the other in the body. Sam's eyes watered as Lucifer clipped one rib after another, enough to form a gaping hole in his chest. Then the sharp tool was gone.

The hand moved inside Sam again, rummaging around looking for something. Sam gasped a painful sound when something cold and unforgiving curled around his heart. Sensing the immediate danger the muscle thumped harder, struggling against the tightening grip. He screamed brokenly, body shaking, the cold pain spreading from his heart to every cell in his body. The seized heart kept beating harder, desperately trying to liberate itself from the caging fingers.

"Stop!" Sam wailed scrunching is his face sorely when Lucifer squeezed the thrumming muscle. "Lucifer, stop… - _ah_!" the plea broken in his mouth. The digits gripped rigidly, promising to savagely crumble his violently beating heart. "Ah! Please, please, _please_ -" the hunter sobbed, pressing his lips in thin line before releasing throat-deep scream.

Holding someone's life in hand was exquisite and having to do it over and over again was something else entirely. But everything dulled next to holding a _beating_ heart in his clutches that gave the Devil a certainly different kind of high.

Soft, dispirited pleas of the man suffering under him were music to his ears. He craved them every single minute, like a drug. It was relaxing, _Zen_ -like even, to make the man suffer, to keep him suffering for so long, to hear him groan, sob, scream and beg, to see him writhe.

Fear had his heart throbbing so deliciously inside his palm, the warm muscle so soft but beating so strong. Just like Sam: all soft on the outside but so strong deep inside, in spirit. Every frantic pulse of his heart conveyed different feelings; _-thump-_ anxiety, _-thump-_ fear, - _thump_ \- horror, - _thump_ \- anger, - _thump_ \- hatred, - _thump_ \- panic, - _thump_ \- despair, - _thump_ \- anguish. All those delicious emotions rolling off of him, pulsating straight from the core of his heart right into the hand of the Dark Archangel.

Seeing the man thrash wildly in the snugly strained confinement birthed a cruel idea in the dark mind of the Fallen one. "Sam,' he called out but the man was so lost in the pain that only pain could reach him.

Lucifer coiled his fingers and pressed the hysterical muscle eliciting an acknowledging gasp from Sam. Fluttering eyes somehow managed to meet the sneering ones of the Devil. Once Lucifer had Sam's pained gaze, he continued, "Sam I'm going to show you your own beating heart as I crush it."

At those words, Sam's eyebrows shot to his hair, eyes going wide in fear and panic. He miserably shook his head, "No, no, please don't," he wept, heart pounding untamed in the cold clutches of the Devil.

"You will like it, Sam." Lucifer assured Sam who was still in denial knowing what fate waited for him. It didn't make accepting the horrible inescapableness any easier. "Seeing your heart as I pull it free from the precincts of its anatomical cage and squeeze the life out of it, it isn't something everyone is lucky enough to see".

Sam was sure lucky wasn't the word he would use. But there was no arguing with the Devil, was there?

"Almost lyrical, to see your heart _break_ " Lucifer chimed, and then his expression turned vigilant. Sam gasped painfully loud as the hand seated deeper in his half empty chest. Screwing his eyes shut didn't stop the pain that engulfed him as Lucifer buried elbow deep in his torso, his fingers reaching under to palm his beating organ.

" _Pleeease_!" Sam gasped, his body shuddering brutally, the veins attached to the muscle tugging painfully as Lucifer began drawing it away from its position. Pain erupted in places that Sam didn't even know existed until now. He screamed and bucked in his constraints but Lucifer's strapping hold on the slippery muscle held it fast as he dragged it out inch by _agonizing_ inch taking pleasure in the way the young man's body tensed just before it contorted, back arching unnaturally high.

"Whoa, ho, ho, ho!" Lucifer rejoiced, rested in his bloodstained hand was Sam's very alive and throbbing heart. The hunter saw more than he felt, his own heart hammering, heard the loud _thump-thump_ , _thump-thump_ of the cardiac organ as it pounded right before his very eyes. "Be my valentine?" Lucifer haphazardly pushed the heart to Sam's fear stricken face. "Or not", Satan chuckled watching the hazel orbs roll deep inside the human's head at the morbid sight, the whites visible through the narrow slits.

Callous fingers winding around the palpitating muscle forced Sam's eyes open training his frightened gaze to focus on soft part of his body. "Don't, please don't..." But the words of the tortured man were lost to the Devil who was concentrated on the life he held in his hand. Slowly he curled his fingers tight, exerting pressure on the already worried organ, kneading it to break its shape.

Something tore inside his heart. _Literally_. The crimson liquid spilled freely from the busted muscle dripping steadily back in to Sam's almost empty chest. The young Winchester grunted, bucked wildly off the hard table top and sank heavily, mimicking the action of his heart which thumped one last time and then sank in the hand of Lucifer like a deflated balloon.

" _Cause of this death: Heart break_ ", Lucifer revealed to the lifeless body of his vessel; the ruptured heart still palmed.

Flipping the muscle around like an impishly curious child, Lucifer frowned not knowing what to do with it now that it wasn't going to draw any more screams from the one person whose cries Lucifer loved so very dearly. So he flung Sam's heart behind him where it splattered with a wet thud. It was useless anyway.

Fingers still caked in blood -Sam's blood that was rapidly cooling- he wiped them on his lab coat, leaving horrific bloody trails like an icky Halloween costume and walked away from Sam's corpse, humming the innocent Humpty-Dumpty rhyme.

 **-SPN-**

"How do you like the accommodation, brother mine?" the dark archangel queried to the only other alive resident of the Cage besides himself. "It is not Four Seasons, but you're in no position to complain, are you?"

The other archangel with his hands trussed up and his magnificent wings chained in spell bound manacles glared disdainfully at his brother- _slash_ -subjugator. "Release me!" He ordered voice loud enough to reverberate the walls of his cell.

After seizing the golden opportunity of blazing a Winchester to ashes, Lucifer had sneaked up on him. The element of surprise rendered Michael defenseless against the brutal attack that his brother unleashed leading to his captivity, his energy rolling off like thousand suns and burning Michael in to defeat. Restraining a weak archangel was nothing more than an act of cowardice in the eyes of God's righteous son.

Lucifer always was a coward. Not in the way that he would pull his tail between his legs and run away but more in the way a first born child was bound to feel neglected when his parents are expecting another child. Lucifer was insecure like that child; worried that sharing the love meant being loved less or not at all.

"Wouldn't releasing you defeat the purpose of actually capturing you?" a genuine confusion keyed on his face.

"What do you plan on gaining from this?" Michael asked furiously ignoring Lucifer's doubt, dark eyes stitched together in a frown.

"What I always wanted." Lucifer offered nonchalantly.

"Which is? To torture me like you did to your own vessel?" Michael scoffed, tensing his arms, testing the cinched restraints. "Speaking of, what have you done to him?"

"Torture you?" Lucifer asked in disbelief. After everything, Michael still thought of Lucifer as an enemy? "No, brother dearest -" he went on to correct but Michael cut in, "Don't call me that. We are not brothers. We haven't been since a long time."

Lucifer chuckled, "Fine, dearest, all I want -all I ever wanted- was for you all to listen, just like I wanted for our father to listen when I told him that I wasn't going to love these humans because I loved Him more than anything, just like I wanted you to listen when God had you cast me down, to listen to me once before you followed through His orders like a good little soldier that you always were. Like I wanted Sam to listen when I told him I was doing things for him. Like I wanted Dean to listen to when I told him to stay clear of my path."

Michael was quiet for the first time, listening as Lucifer carried on, "But you all don't listen very well, do you? Father didn't and neither did you before the pearly lot of you exiled me, caging me far away, beneath those vile humans!" Words slipped from Lucifer's mouth like acid, "Dean didn't listen and I had to beat the living daylights out of him until his beloved brother took the control back. And Sam, he didn't listen either. He threw me back into this place and now look his dead body is cooling off, still strapped to the table which is as good as a pyre he'll get, glazed eyes still open staring mindlessly like they did the precise moment he died."

"I'm listening now." Michael said watching Lucifer struggle to get his temper in check, his face suddenly calm again.

"Are you?" Lucifer asked Michael who frowned at his lack of trust. "I distinctly remember telling you to leave my vessel alone and the fleeting moment _I_ leave him alone, your itchy hands are already choking the life out of him one way or another."

"What difference does it make whose hands that vile monster suffers at?" Michael failed to understand why something as insignificant as Sam had Lucifer all riled up. "As long as every moment of his waking existence is spent in agony, why should it matter who the harbinger of his pain is?"

"I think you missed the whole plot, dearest", Lucifer grinned, "He is _my_ vessel. He is _mine_!"

 _Possessive as always Lucifer, when will you change?_

"Besides," Lucifer carried on, taking Michael's silence as his cue to continue, "If you wanted to torture a vessel so much, maybe you shouldn't have let yours go, holding on to a bare whisper that faded even before you could say the word: torture."

"I would never torture Adam or Dean for that matter."

"Why? Because they are your vessels?" Lucifer asked in mock surprise.

"No, because they are not monsters that lead the whole mankind to their destruction like -" Michael didn't finish it but Lucifer had no qualms what he was meaning to say.

"Like?" Lucifer compelled, "Like who? Say it, Michael! Like me, even before Sam, isn't that right?"

Michael's silence answered his question. Suddenly, he found his lost voice, "Even if that's true, I don't want to torture you, Lucifer. But he must suffer for what he has done. He doomed his own, then cast us back in the pit."

"That is why, I cannot release you, because once Sam is put back again, you will torture him." Lucifer held up his hand to silence Michael's protests "I know you will."

"We have always debated on everything but making Sam Winchester suffer eternally is something we both agree on -I don't know how long it's been since we did that- so let me assist you, brother."

"It is a little too late to play the family card, Michael." Lucifer laughed softly, "And besides, I'm not taking _prompts_ on How-To-Torture-Sam-Winchester at the moment, so you can keep your thoughts on that one to yourself and I think the shackles will keep your hands off of my vessel and do the same."

Lucifer left his brother in captivity with his hands bound by gilded shackles and his wide wings fettered by spell-woven clandestine chains.

 **-SPN-**

* * *

 **AN** : I hope this Chapter was enough to forgive me for the week long delay. Let me know if I'm forgiven!

If not, I've the next _two_ Chapters on the go as well because I owe it to my readers! Stay tuned because the next update will be sooner than you think!

P.S. Medical mistakes are my own


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:** As promised, the next chapter is here. Thank you everyone who is reading! Special thanks to those who are reviewing my story, i can't express how much your words mean to me. Also thank you for Story Alert/Favorite/Follow. :)

Enjoy reading!

* * *

 **Chapter 6:**

 _"This is all your fault, Sam", Lucifer said, the misplaced sympathy dripping from his honeyed voice. "You kept screaming his name, calling him. That is why he came, because you called him. Now look what you did to him"_

 _"No, it isn't my fault," Sam cried. This was just a mind trick that Lucifer was playing on him, to break him. Lucifer clicked his tongue, "It is, Sam. His death is on you."_

 _"No!" barked Sam, not wanting to believe what his eyes were showing him._

 _"Yes", the Devil cooed softly, "I don't think he came to rescue me." Sam's head was spinning. It kept drifting back to moments ago when he had roused to the face of someone he hadn't expected to see._

 _"Sam", a familiar voice whispered softly in his ear, calling him from the dark silence. Something moved his hair, like a ruffle, the touch gentle and full of warmth and affection, something the young Winchester hadn't experienced in a very long time. It was tender and Sam greedily leaned his head into the gentleness of it. "C'mon, Sam, save the cuddles for the next life time when one of us has boobs and we are no longer related. Get up!"_

 _That was when it hit Sam's drowsy mind, like a brick falling over his head._

 _Was that -?_

 _No, it couldn't be!_

 _It_ shouldn't _be!_

 _But what if -?_

 _His eyes flew open, and rested on the face he knew like the back of his hand. Every crinkle at the corner of those eyes, every freckle scattered on and around the bridge of that nose, the stinging diamond cut sharpness of that jaw and the smooth landing of that sharp nose, and above all the tropical green eyes that always fashioned a frown._

 _"Dean?" Sam ignored how his voice cracked at that name, the sudden feeling of warmth overwhelming him. His home wasn't a place, it was a person, and that was Dean._

 _"Oh, are you finally remembering?" Dean ridiculed, one hand outstretched in Sam's direction as he balanced his muscular frame on his haunches. "Gee, I was about to go grab my DNA tests."_

 _"You know about DNAs?" Sam joked, forgetting where he was and everything around, save for Dean,_ his _Dean._

 _"Deoxyribonucleic Acid", Dean's answer surprised the younger brother which had the elder one breaking into soft laughter, the sound that Sam remembered so well, "I maybe a college drop-out Sam, but I'm not a caveman."_

 _"Alright, genius -" Sam gave in, taking his brother's hand letting his brother haul him to his feet. His brain suddenly reminded him of their cagey situation and Sam blurted, "What the hell are you doing here, Dean?"_

 _"I came to cheer you in a Cage Match." Dean sassed, "I'm saving your ass, is what I'm doing!" He yanked Sam to his feet, grateful that his unwisely long legs were co-operating just fine. Once rooted firm, Dean pushed his giant for a younger brother inside the protective circle of his open arms._

 _Sam relaxed a little in his brother's safety. It had been a very long time since Sam felt safe; since_ Dean _made him feel safe. Things had been sour between the brothers ever since Dean was back from Hell and learnt the truth about his and Ruby's after dark activities. Ruby entering their lives had started a domino effect that destroyed their brotherly bond stopping only when the last piece fell: Sam, when he jumped into the pit._

 _But Dean had come to save him, like he always did, and that must mean something; Sam must mean something to_ Dean _. Why else was his big brother putting his life_ and _soul in jeopardy coming to Hell to save him?_

 _"How did you get here?" Sam asked, skepticism seeping in his voice_

 _"I thought we were past our trust issues," Dean's face exhibiting hurt. "If you_ must _know, I ganked a demon but not before I tortured her into revealing the rabbit hole down to this joint."_

 _"Dean, I'm not dou-" but Sam never finished saying that he didn't doubt Dean because his mouth suddenly went dry at the sight of a bloodied hand impaling Dean's taut torso. "Dean!" the scream was hoarse, loud and ringing. His brother was choking on blood, eyes wide in confusion as they slowly drifted to the hand sticking out of him, rolling the blood and bits between their fingers. The hand retreated at the same blinding speed with which it had impaled; the pop echoing. Dean sunk to his knees, Lucifer's cold stature no more hidden behind him._

 _"No, no, no, no..." Sam kneeled next to his brother' bleeding form, tears dripping and mixing in to the growing puddle of blood. "What have you done?!" The younger Winchester demanded falling to his knees wanting to hold his brother's limp form upright._ Soft thud hinted his brother hitting the floor.

 _"Me?" Lucifer feigned offence. "This is your fault, Sam."_

 _Sam was petrified on spot, the doings of the archangel in front of him. All the air from his chest was knocked out when he was slammed into a wooden chair that had appeared out of the thin air, creaking in protest against the assault. Leather belts strapped tight, locking his wrists to the arms of the chair and doing the same to his feet on the wooden legs._

 _Hurtful eyes looked for Dean but the spot where he was sprawled moments ago was empty, the small puddle of blood being the only evidence that he was ever there. "Dean!" he screamed, heart pounding in his chest at the absence of his wounded brother._

 _Something tickled his hair, on the top of his scalp. Sam shook his head, mind focused on finding Dean. "Where is my brother?!" he questioned the Devil who was calm as always. Something rustled his hair again but Sam gave no heed to it because Dean was currently the centre of his attention._

 _Lucifer's eyes shifted towards the ceiling in a telltale sign. Unwillingly, his own gaze followed that of the twisted angel and to his horror he found Dean hung above his head, the gaping wound leaking his blood quietly on Sam's face now that he was looking up._

 _"Dean!" Sam called, willing for his brother to answer his desperate cry, but the other Winchester stayed hung, wilted from the ceiling._

 _An invisible force pushed Sam's face away from his helpless brother back to the Devil, "Eyes on me, Pal" Lucifer grinned, two bloody fingers drawn out in a V, pointed to his own glacial eyes. "Let this be a reminder that your rebellious actions will have grim consequence."_

 _Another strap snaked across Sam's damp forehead, rendering his head immobile. Something small and weightless fell on his head again and this time the hunter knew it was the blood of his brother, dripping sluggishly._

 _"Let me go!" Sam fought; the chair groaned under pressure but the straps did not give._

 _"Let you go?" Lucifer asked, looking genuinely puzzled. "You chose this. You chose to jump in the pit. I didn't push you off the edge. You jumped willing. So here we are."_

 _That was not what Sam meant when he said that; it was his redemption after all. He wanted Lucifer to free him from the chair that held him captive under the stream of his brother's blood. He didn't want any of that._

 _"You're right, Lucifer", Sam agreed openly for the first time. The Cheshire smile that stretched into Lucifer's skull quaked the younger man's body. "I chose this and I deserve it too but please let my brother go. He has nothing to do with it. Just let him go."_

 _The Devil watched as the hunter broke down, soft cries spilling from him, misty eyes looking like a kicked puppy. It was adorable and amusing to Lucifer, so much so that he could get used to it. Maybe he should_ leash _Sam, complete the whole sad puppy facade._

 _"You couldn't stop yourself calling for your Big Brother and neither could he stop himself from tearing into Hell to rescue your already damned life." Lucifer explained Sam as another drop landed on the same spot on his scalp. "If I can't teach you the consequences of your action then maybe Big Brother's blood will do it for me. Either ways you'll learn your lesson, Sam."_

 _Then Lucifer walked away, just like that, leaving Sam alone with his brother's blood dripping steadily._

 _"No, no, no, Lucifer!" Sam bellowed after Lucifer's departing silhouette. "Don't leave me!"_

 _Sam shivered, soft cries scrambling from the back of his throat. He didn't want to believe it but Lucifer was right. Dean died because of him. Even though he wasn't sure this was truly his Dean, it didn't matter because Dean was the one who sacrificed everything for Sam. His life wasn't his to live the way he wanted to; it hadn't been his since he was four years old._

 _Drip. Drip. Drip._

 _Like that wasn't enough, his brother not only died but went to Hell just so he could save Sam's damned soul. And what did he do? He slept around with the enemy; he chose a demon over his own brother. Who chooses a demon over his family?_

 _Drip._

 _Sam tried to move, turn his head to avoid the blood that soaked his hair and trickled down their long ends but the straps held him tight. The blood continued to drip irregularly leaving Sam guessing when the next drop will fall._

 _Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip._

 _Rivulets, dark red and thick, rolled down the edge of his scalp, some dribbling down his forehead, into his eyes, down his cheek as well. Sam's body shook and trembled as he fought to get away, and cried heavily when he couldn't._

 _Drip. Drip. Drip._

 _Drip. Drip._

 _The bound hunter had no knowledge of how long it had been since he sustained under the current method of torture but it was too long for any human body to hemorrhage. The blood had soaked all of his hair and most of his back and his front of his shirt and yet it dripped endlessly._

 _Drip._

 _"My fault", the mantra had been on his lips for quite some time._

 _Drip. Drip._

 _"All my fault" the voice was shaky but the resolve was absolute._

 _Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip._

 _"Always my fault"_

 _Drip. Drip._

 _"It's my fault"_

 _Drip. Drip. Drip._

 _Each drop was cold. Each drop was heavier than the previous one. Each drop was burrowing deeper into his skull. Each drop was digging a hole into his head. Each drop was pounding like a nail being hammered in to his brain. Each drop drove the younger Winchester into the slow descent of insanity. Each drop was maddening. Each drop conditioned his mind into to concreting the fact that everything was his fault._

 _Drip._

 _"Its -"_

 _Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip._

 _"Iss-"_

 _"m-my..."_

 _Drip. Drip._

 _"f-fault"_

 _Drip._

 _"Al-ways..."_

 _Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip._

 **-SPN-**

Radio silence.

Never in the past few centuries had it been as quiet as it was now. Neither a whisper from above nor a peep from below. The superiors had risen above the gossamer bed of clouds and the inferiors had holed beyond the crusty layers of the surface. It was as if nothing subsisted above their head and nothing thrived under their feet. Silence had settled everywhere like morning dew.

That was until the fog of chaos rolled in.

Everything in Heaven went to Hell and Hell rose to take over Heaven. Though the battlefield was quiet, the armies at war were far away from peace. No one knew who fought for which side anymore. Angels were killing their own and demons stabbed at each other; and then somewhere not so far away an Angel and a Demon were negotiating terms.

"Bullocks!" complained the demon.

"Heaven needs that kind of power, with Michael not around to lead anymore", the angel in trench coat justified, the look of constant duress ever present.

"Do I look like someone who cares a dime about what your _feathery_ lot needs?" pressed the suited demon, "Do I?"

The angel continued staring at him in disinterest. What was he thinking trying to talk sense into Crowley? He was a demon after all. Unfortunately, he was the only demon he could trust even if it was just a fraction of trust.

"Not even if I'm willing to share?" that got the demon's attention.

"You're joking, right?" the shorter man laughed. "Even if you're feeling like sharing, you don't know the first thing about the place you seek. You have no proof that such place even exists, Castiel!"

"It must", Castiel said, using the full focus of his azure eyes. "Where do you the think the souls of the damned go?"

"Maybe they all go to Hell", Crowley retorted, "Who knows? It's not like Taylor Swift walking the red carpet where everyone knows them."

Castiel frowned.

"Everyone but you", sighed Crowley when Castiel failed to understand the pop culture reference. "What? Would it damn you to hell to watch the Telly or read a magazine?"

"I do not think watching 'Telly' or reading magazine is sin that effects damnation." Castiel deadpanned.

Crowley rolled his eyes and then exhaled loud and long. The world had dodged the apocalypse by close quarters and Castiel was still living under a rock.

"I'll torture my demons and see what they know." Crowley offered, seeing the baffled look on the angel's face he added, "I can and so I shall."

"Fine", the angel added. It wasn't his business to be bothered about what Crowley wanted to do to his fellow demons. "I'll ask around the other garrisons, see what they know. Meet me here in three days from now at this hour."

"Just say Monday evening at seven!" Crowley grumbled as he walked away from Castiel, "If we do find this place, remember you owe me a share."

"I will." Castiel assured and then commanded to Crowley's retreating back, "But it will be on my terms and it will be non-negotiable."

The demon stopped and turned on his heels facing the angel again, a challenging smile ghosting his lips, "Funny, I always took you for the submissive kind. Guess I was wrong", then he disappeared leaving the angel in trench coat to make sense of his words who gave it up soon as it was all lost on him.

 **-SPN-**

Lucifer was thrilled to see the man squirming on the rippling floor like an earthworm desperately searching for soft soil to burrow-in in dry land. The leathery limbs from the floor were tangled around the hunter's feeble frame feeding off his misery that was secreting from his skin like pheromones. The heady scent of his fear, guilt and self-loathing was exotic. It was a shame that he couldn't see the defeated eyes of the Winchester trapped in the home-brewed hallucination spell.

Effective technique Chinese water torture. Except in Sam's case, Lucifer had corrupted the already twisted torture method by replacing the water with blood, freshly extracted from Dean's warm body.

It required blindfolding for the spell to work and the snake-like appendage coiled across his eyes were doing just that while other verisimilar leathery ropes held his body in place absorbing the waves of suffering rolling off of him.

The part of the Cage where Lucifer held Sam his prisoner was another one of his powerful and equally perverse spells. It bent, curled and even transformed in whatever way the Dark Lord willed it to. The floor was a parasitic mass of live appendages that fed from not just emotional but physical sources as well and they were as good as any other form restrains.

The spell also called for continuous flow of blood from the marked one. But of course, Lucifer couldn't have Sam dying so quickly from the all the blood loss, so he had tweaked the spell. On his command, other limbs from the leathery mass had punctured Sam's skin with inch long needle-like thorns at the points where his pulse thrummed strongly like under the curve of his jaw, the insides of his elbows and his wrists, slowly drawing in small quantities of the crimson liquid; enough to make the spell last long enough to suck every last ounce of blood and also to feed the cage as well; something similar on the lines of two birds with one stone.

Initially, the idea of gagging the hunter had crossed Lucifer's mind, especially when he kept calling for his brother but decided against it once that was replaced by his throaty moans and broken sobs as the hallucination progressed. Sam's painful cries were not just music to his ears but also _poetry_ to his dark, twisted soul.

Lucifer sat on the floor close to Sam's trapped body, hugging his knees; chin resting on them, watching him as he recoiled and arched, listening as he gasped and grunted. Every now and then the appendages twisting and rolling against Sam's body shuddered, swallowing his delicious suffering leaving the Devil thirsting to taste his misery.

Sam was under the spell since quite a long time, moaning, sobbing and making all kinds of delectable sounds. Lucifer could end the spell any minute if wanted to. But did he want that? No, he wanted to keep Sam trapped until the last drop of his blood was extracted, paling his body to a deadly shade.

For something like that to happen with a spell like this could take hours, even days and that would mean Lucifer would have to abstain from his gory activities but then Sam had cried in pain and he knew the abstinence was going to be worth it.

Physical torture was fun; the slicing, the hacking, the mutilation, the burning, the torching, the snapping, the blood, the crunch of bones breaking and the abandoned screaming. But it was also time consuming and involved lot of hard work. With someone like Sam who was brought up in the hard-bitten life, drawing a high-pitched scream took more time than it did compared to cutting in to other common souls.

Psychological torture on the other hand was quick, efficient and clean. Not that Lucifer didn't mind the bloody mess, but even he had days when he wanted everything without breaking a sweat. Also, it was amusing to see that Sam crumbled pretty quickly under the emotional torment than the physical torture. He'd have to thank Michael for that because it was he who had demonstrated it the time Sam broke from just one word: _Monster_. If Lucifer hadn't walked in on him burning Sam alive, he wouldn't have come to this conclusion this sooner.

Tampering Sam's mind with psychological assaults was easy because Lucifer had been inside his head before. He knew all about Sam's fears, his failures, his self-hatred, his desperate need to be normal, his thirst for freedom, and above all his undying love for _family_. Add Devil's cue to gag here.

Lucifer sneered as the man whimpered, his body winding crookedly, spasms rolling under his bleached skin, mouth hungry with the desire to scream. He knew enough to know what to use to make and break him. Everything he knew about his psyche, he was going to bend and twist it into something dark and poisonous and use it against Sam Winchester.

* * *

 **AN** : Did anyone expect Crowley and Castiel to make an appearance?


	7. Chapter 7

**AN:** My dear readers who review my story thank you so, so much. It is your reviews that motivate me and challenge me to keep writing more 'brutal' chapters! I am truly thankful for that. A hearty thank you to all my readers and those of you who are following my story, i wish i could send you all cookies with each chapter update. :)

So, here is the new chapter! Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 7:**

"God", his voice trembled not with fear but with hesitation. "It's me, Sam Winchester." He was on his knees, hands clasped, fingers curled tightly together, eyes closed as he prayed, something that he hadn't done in the past decade. "I don't know if you can hear me or if still want to, after everything I've done, but if you do, I only ask of one thing. Please keep Dean safe", he paused, forcing the lump down his throat as his eyes misted remembering the horrible feel of Dean's blood dripping on his scalp. _It wasn't real. It wasn't real._ "I don't care what the Devil does to me but Dean deserves better. I know he went against the will of your angels but he has so much good in him." Warm stream of tears slipped from his closed eyes and his voice cracked, word breaking as he incoherently mumbled, "But if it has offended you in any way, I apologize on his behalf. Punish me for mine and his sins but please let him be. Amen."

"You know, if you wanted to be punished, all you had to do was ask me." The honeyed voice had the man spinning on his knees, teary hazels locking with glacial blues. Maybe it wasn't too late to put a collar around Sam. He was already on his knees, surrender clear in his wet eyes and obedience discernible in his body language. Without another thought, the Winchester instantly rose to his feet, inhaling deeply, chest stretching like an untamed animal. Alpha once again. _The collar would have to wait, then_. "Never thought you would still be praying." Lucifer confessed and Sam shifted his weight unconsciously from one foot to another, "I mean, don't get me wrong but you know, you drank demon blood unwillingly at first I admit, but willingly the second and the third and several times after that."

He paused for a moment, watching his words getting to Sam faster than he had expected. After spending quite some time with him, the Devil knew all his tells. The nervous twitch at the corner of his lips spoke volumes of his unwilling acceptance of the bitter truths about himself. The negligible flare of his nose that hinted at his unruly temper breaths away from eruption. The clenching and unclenching of his fist as he tried to ease that temper. "I don't really see how that is godly and as if that wasn't enough you fornicated with that demon bitch. Or should I say you _fu_ -"

"Enough!" Sam hollered, he didn't need the Devil reminding him of his sins.

Lucifer sneered, enjoying his frustration. "Touchy subject, I see." His forked tongue could taste the hot anger shooting from the man who was on his knees begging to God not moments ago. "Never mind, go on." Sam shifted his weight again putting himself away from the Devil. "Pray, Sam", Lucifer encouraged. "Don't mind me", he added, waving his hand at nothing.

Sam stayed frozen to his spot, not willing to obey Lucifer. Little did he know Lucifer didn't take disobedience very well amongst other things. "Pray!" Lucifer bellowed waving his hand in Sam's direction who was forced to his knees yelping as they hit the floor with a bone shattering crack, soft gasp of pain spilling from his lips.

Back on his knees just like Lucifer wanted, he waited for Sam to start praying. Lucifer's expression changed to fury and Sam knew any minute would his last. But that would be mercy on Satan's part; to give Sam a quick death. Sadly, Lucifer never knew what the word mercy meant. A part of Sam wondered if that was because the Morning Star himself was never shown one. Talk about Stockholm syndrome.

So when the anticipated killing blow didn't come, Sam glanced back at the Devil who looked pleasant enough to bring someone flowers and wish them 'Good day'. His mercurial persona was one of the things that Sam wasn't used to yet just like his uncanny ability to find humor even in grotesque situations. "Silly me", he knocked his temple with the heel of his palm; "You probably need a cross of some sorts."

With snap of his fingers a large wooden cross materialized next to Sam. The intimidating size of the cross broke goose bumps all over his body. "Now to get this thing upright." The Devil said stroking his chin shrewdly.

The cross vibrated as Lucifer willed it off the ground and then slammed it back to the surface cherishing the way Sam flinched away from something which represents protection from evil. "Something's not right", Lucifer said thoughtfully, eyes carefully studying the lain cross.

Lucifer vanished from Sam's view leaving him perplexed as he searched for the Devil. He materialized behind Sam's unsuspecting form, took aim and swung hard at the back of his head. "Ugh!" Sam grunted as the blow clouded his vision as black as night with stars and everything. It didn't render him unconscious but the pain distracted him enough for Lucifer to easily cradle him and drop him on an uneven surface: the cross, Sam realized.

Sam blinked his eyes rapidly to clear the darkness as he fought feebly against Lucifer's strong hold. He felt something tug at the front of his shirt, gentle yanks at his front that had his eyes flying open when he realized that Lucifer was taking his shirt off.

"Don't!" he slurred, still disoriented from the first blow when another one landed on his temple. Strong hand pulled at his shirt enough to haul him off the surface and in the next instance his shirt slid off his shoulder and down his arms. The undershirt came off quickly and Sam was released to fall back against the cold surface. He shivered both from fear and the cold.

"What are you doing?!" he panicked to which the Dark Prince laughed darkly. The eminent sound of his buckle coming off had Sam thrashing and kicking blindly hoping to hit a mark. The grunt from the Devil told him he hadn't missed but another blinding blow to his head slowed his defense.

Tears didn't help his already blurry vision. The button on his jeans was popped open. The scratchy sound of the zipper being pulled apart grated his eardrums. "Don't, please..." he fought but was no match to the archangel undressing him. His movements were too slow, too off the mark. The sobbing hunter swung weakly grabbing at Lucifer's lapel that quickly slipped off from his finger before he could tighten his hold on them.

The pulling at his jeans stopped, leaving them at his hips. Cold finger wrapped around his flaying wrists swiftly pinning them above his head. Lucifer's face came into his vision which cleared lazily. Sam twisted his wrists to free them from the iron grip and he wanted to haul the devil off of him but Lucifer's bone crushing hold kept them in place. "I have more ways to defile you other than just taking your clothes off. Keep fighting me and I'll give you the demo."

Sam squirmed under him at the threat. If Lucifer made true on his promise he would lose the one thing that kept him sane. "Please, Lucifer... don't do this." He begged, not caring how weak he sounded. He had to protect his dignity.

"Another word from that mouth and you'll see what else that mouth can do." Lucifer challenged. Sam quickly shut his mouth wishing he could stop the tears that fell ceaselessly from his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut as Lucifer let go of his hands and went back to his hips. With quick tug he pulled his jeans down to the ankles sliding them off his bare feet.

Then came the part that Sam hated; the part that made him sick in the gut. He whimpered but didn't dare to speak his protest as Lucifer's thumbs hooked inside the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down at a deliberately slow pace relishing the man squirming and twisting under him. His cheeks were a warm shade of red; the humiliation so very evident.

"There is nothing I haven't seen before, Sam." It was true. This wasn't the first time Sam was naked as the day he was born. He had been bared before. But this was different because unlike all the other times he didn't directly wake up naked, strapped to a steel table or hung by wire, no, Lucifer was stripping him with his hands. It was humiliating and Sam could do nothing but lay still while he peeled his clothes off layer by layer.

Sam waited, his heart beating too fast, too hard, watching what the Devil was going to do next. Cold fingers latched on to his hips undesired, flexing and spreading over his Apollo's belt. He bucked wanting to shake them off but they held fast as Lucifer disapproved, "Tsk, tsk, tsk. None of that, Sam."

"This body was explicitly made for me." Lucifer said, eyes devouring every inch of Sam in a way that made him uneasy. Sam's breath hitched up not knowing for sure what he meant by that. The vulnerable state that he was in along with Lucifer's unreadable gaze wasn't helping him either. Slowly Lucifer withdrew his hands off Sam's body leaving the man baffled.

If Lucifer thought seeing the fear in Sam's hazel spheres was fun, seeing the puzzled shock was hilarious. The kid really thought Lucifer was going to tarnish him. As if, an archangel would want to defile someone as pathetic as a human. Lucifer had his pride after all. He didn't fall from the grace just to degrade himself like this. That was a new low even for the Dark Prince.

While Sam was too busy reveling in the relief for not having his dignity wrenched away, it didn't occur to him what Lucifer was doing with his hands until it was too late. They were stretched to his side, roped to the perpendicular arms of the cross. "What are you doing?" Sam asked in fear, pulling at his bound wrists. He twisted them, tugged at them but they stayed restrained. Lucifer ignored him, humming a familiar hymn whose words were lost in Sam's mouth.

Lucifer moved towards his feet and gripped his ankles killing any opportunity for Sam to kick at him as he bound them to the vertical beam of the cross. The all too familiar position gave away Lucifer's next form of torture: The Devil was going to crucify him.

"Once we are done, you can pray all you want, Sam." Lucifer cooed, his thumb stroking Sam's tear away as he mumbled a broken "N-no..."

"I know you believe so much in God, so let me help you." Lucifer offered, the amiable tone intimidating Sam. From somewhere that Sam couldn't see, Lucifer fabricated a five inch long nail with an inch wide head that tapered down to the needle point. Sam's eyes widened at the dimension of the object that he knew was going to pierce his body. His heart was pounding hard and fast. A thin sheen of sweat blanketed his body despite his nakedness in the frosty cage environment.

"Now, there is a general belief to pierce the nails through the wrists", Lucifer said tapping the pointy end to the ropes holding Sam's wrists to the cross. "But I'm a bit traditional so we'll go with the palm."

" _No_..." Sam pleaded, curling his fingers into a tight fist.

"How about you pray to Him and see if he tries protecting you from the pain?" Lucifer suggested in a perfectly smooth voice. "Show me how much does your God cares for you and how often He answers to your prayers."

Sam knew that Lucifer knew that there was no way God was coming down to save him. He was just playing with Sam's emotions, his beliefs and his faith. Lucifer reached for the white knuckled fingers closed in a tight fist. "No, Lucifer", Sam whimpered as Lucifer's fingers tried to find an opening to uncurl his fist but when Sam held fast he stopped picking at his fingers and instead pressed his claws into the soft flesh under the heel of the palm. The pain flared from the place where Lucifer's nails were sure to embed bloody half moons and spiked to the center of his palm, unfolding his fingers to loosen their grip. Lucifer dove at the small window of opportunity and flattened those slender fingers on the wood. He locked Sam's fingers under his booted foot and reached for the sledgehammer with his now free hand. Sam's eyes widened in fright, "Please, don't do this."

Lucifer trailed the sharp end across his open palm trying to find a soft spot on his work hardened hand. Locating the point at the centre of his palm, Lucifer placed the tip of the nail and raised the hammer high above his head.

"No, no, no, please don't, please _ah_ -" Sam screamed as the tip pierced the thin skin easily. Tears filled Sam's wide eyes as the pain blossomed across his entire palm. "C'mon Sam, won't you pray?" Lucifer mocked raising the hammer once again. "God, pleas – _ah_!" The next blow drove the nail deeper in his palm cutting off Sam's litany as blood spilled from the torn flesh, warm and sticky. " _Ugh_!" He thrashed, the only thing holding him in place were the ropes around his wrists and ankles, while his chest was left free to arch and buck in agony. The third hit drove the nail through his hands breaking the bones as it went and hammered in to the wood underneath.

Sam was a sobbing, sniveling mess. His eyes were rolling deep in his brain and his body twitched in the after-shock of the ravaging pain.

Lucifer brought the hammer down the fourth time, the harsh blow embedding the nail another inch deeper, stretching the wound in its wake. Sam grunted in pain, tears burnt in the back of his eyes. The pain in his skewered palm was throbbing like a live wire.

"Maybe you didn't pray hard enough. Give it another try." Lucifer suggested as he rose to full height lifting his foot off his impaled palm. When Sam didn't obey because he was too lost in the pain, Lucifer nudged the nail drawing a throaty moan from the panting man. " _Pray again, Sam_ ", he emphasized. A gentle kick to the puncturing nail had Sam yelping and quickly following through Lucifer's order, "G-god, S-save me."

"Good boy", Lucifer praised bending down over Sam's face. Ruffling Sam's hair, he grabbed the chestnut locks tightly as he yanked his head hard so that his glassy gaze was one with his and said, "You better hope He answers your prayers before I drive the second nail into your other palm."

"Please don't, Lucifer, don't do it" Sam rambled, begging hard to Lucifer who walked around his head, stopping as he neared his other outstretched arm. Swiftly yet gracefully, he sat on his haunches as he playfully trailed Sam's veins that ran from his elbow to the base of his palm. Lucifer spread open his fingers one by one and Sam watched in grim spectacle as Lucifer set the pointed tip of the second nail in the middle of his palm and then struck the hammer on its head with precision. Sam cried a blood curdling scream at the force with which the nail tore his skin, blood quickly pooling at the wound.

"Oh! Sam, I don't think your God listening to you." he pitied, his tone true melancholy. Lucifer hadn't bothered to stamp on his palm this time because he knew all the physical fight had left Sam the moment the first nail had hit home. "But then again, he never did."

Glassy hazels focused briefly on Lucifer's face. "I mean, He didn't protect Mommy, Daddy, Dean or even sweet little Jess. They all died Sam and the God you prayed to did nothing but let it happen." Even after enduring so much pain, Lucifer was still surprised to see the fight in his eyes renew as they captured his own with a piercing gaze. Anger had taken refuge alongside pain in his dewy eyes and his body tensed as Lucifer continued to taunt him, "Even you died. Remember that drizzly night at Cold Oak? It wasn't God or even Dean that brought you back to life; it was one of my demons. This life isn't yours Sam; it never has been, not even before Cold Oak. _You belong to me, you always have._ "

"No!" Sam didn't know where the courage came from but it was the only warm thing he felt in a very long time. "My family died because of _you._ Jessica died because of your Yellow eyed son of a bitch!"

"I'll admit that Azazel had Jessica killed but Sam, did you really think you were going to marry that pretty blonde thing when your true purpose was to be my vessel?" Anger slowly replaced the pain etched on Sam's pale face. "Azazel hit two targets in one blow that night. Killing Jessica didn't just divert you off the 'apple-pie normal' life but it led to deeper into the hunting world." Lucifer smiled cunningly as he voiced his next thought, "Exactly like it did John when Azazel killed Mary. Hmm, you _are_ like John after all."

"My point still stands", Lucifer continued ignoring the waves of zesty anger rolling off from Sam, the hammer resting innocently on his shoulder, "God didn't eve raise His finger. Your God never cared about you." He pressed the embedding nail making the crucified man cry and shudder and slowly raised the hammer again. Sam's nimble fingers curled around the nail, and then fell away as the hammer hit the mark drawing loud and long screams as the nail shattered the bones in his palms.

"You were the Winchester that prayed and God never gave a damn about it. Why is that?" Lucifer struck the third time and he did it with such force that it drove the nail all the way through Sam's hand into the wooden frame. His body trembled with shock. Agony coursed through his entire being like his own blood. Both his wrists were on fire and his fingers no longer moved before throwing him into fits of throes. He watched as the dips in his palms were pooled with blood. The wood beneath nailed palms greedily drank from his wounds. "Maybe you're just not worthy of saving", Lucifer voiced his thought.

Lucifer's words weighed him down as Sam stayed like that, not like he could move at all with nails pinning his hands to the cross. His cold fingers twitched in pain and every small spasm that ran throughout his body welcomed more pain in his arms. With glazed eyes, he saw Lucifer who smiling down at him with sad eyes. "I feel for you Sam. I know what's it like to be abandoned by Him."

"Liar", Sam whispered. It was so quiet that a normal human being would have never registered it but he knew from the way Lucifer's shoulders stiffened and his grin dropped a little he had heard it crystal clear. "You feel nothing!"

"Of course, I do!" Lucifer gestured at Sam's tied up body. "This is why I'm doing this. So that God can see how much you're suffering and maybe, just maybe, he might hear your prayers."

"Why do you care?" Sam asked, but he was so tired already, the cruel torture had taken such toll on him.

"Because, then you'll believe me when I say that only _I_ cared for you. Just me." With that, he rose once again and walked to where Sam's ankles were fastened to the wood. Sam managed to lift his head barely enough to see him untying his ankles as he went concentrating too hard trying to set the angle to nail his feet to the cross. Sam shuddered at the thought of awareness of where the bolts of pain were going to strike next.

Eventually, Lucifer settled on a position where his left foot was flat against the wooden beam, toes touching the small pedestal there and his right leg was slightly bent at the knee so his right foot overlapped his left. He stamped down on his ankles to hold them in place like he had done with his palm and materialized the third nail. Sam cried a sorrowful moan at the sight of the nail which was at least two inches larger than the ones nailing his hands. The tip settled on a spot a little above his third toe, marking the point where it would tear through his foot. Closing his watery eyes, Sam dropped his head back in defeat as he waited for the pain to strike.

His chest heaved and he screamed painfully when the nail stabbed his foot. Streams of hot tears ran unbridled down his face; his breath was coming short from spending too much air in to that thundering scream. He hiccupped fast and short. His body tensing, wanting to curl into himself but the nails brutally impaling him held it immobile.

The cries of anguish from the Winchester snapped Lucifer's electric eyes to Sam's tear sodden face. There was so much pain there, etched in the three folds on his forehead; so much sorrow swimming in the pool of his tears and so much fear on his quivering bottom lip as he begged beautifully, "Stop, please, please..."

" _Pray to me,_ Sam", Lucifer commanded. Sam closed his eyes as defeat slithered in, his frown deepening as broken words cascaded to structure a prayer. The hopeless Winchester never got a chance to finish his appeal as torrents of screams spewed from his mouth when the hammer slammed hard and powerful on the head of the nail lodging it deeper in the top foot.

"Lucifer!" Eyes clenched shut in pain; Sam didn't see the hammer hitting the mark again shoving the nail through his right foot, effectively breaching the surface of the other foot underneath. He lifted his head and dropped it back on the wood again, the movement causing pain to flare and char his body with the tongues of agony that coursed through him. Lucifer spared no time for Sam to recoup between the strikes, not that there was any getting used to this pain. He brought the hammer down one more time easing another throat-ripping scream from the crucified man as the nail penetrated both his feet by several inches and nestled nice and snug in the beam. The nail heads -all three of them- rested like a diamonds on Sam's body. He nudged the recently pop in nail, eliciting sweet moans from Sam. Secured as desirable; they weren't getting loose anytime soon.

"Help me", he cried in breathless whispers, oblivious of what words he was babbling but aware enough to know that there was no one to coming to save him. His body and soul were forsaken to the Devil a long time ago.

Lucifer peered at Sam's twitching form as he bled sluggishly from his palms and his feet. His eyes kept rolling behind his eyelids as currents of pain ran through his body. Tiny whimpers filled the cold air around them as Sam sobbed quietly.

The way Sam was nailed to the cross, bare-skinned and helpless, on display for audience of one: Lucifer himself, his wounds bleeding, his face messy with drying streams of salty tears and hair sweat sodden, it reminded him of –

Lucifer went to squat next to Sam's face but the man was so lost in his suffering that he was no longer aware of his presence. As quietly as he could, he cut off the ropes binding Sam's wrists settled at his side. Lucifer carded his cold digits through his warm, wet hair raking his scalp enough to draw another whimper from his spit and blood soaked lips. "Shush, one last thing and we're done."

Sam felt the hand sliding under his head to the base of his neck and almost too gently his head was elevated. Between the slow blinks, he saw Lucifer's face closing in and he mewled as tried to pull away but the hand held him tight. Something sharp scraped the top his head burning long scratches in process as whatever it was was forced to his forehead.

Lucifer dropped Sam's head making the man moan as the new prop bit in to his skin. He stood and walked a few steps away from the hunter to get a good look at his handiwork. The thorn crown completed the visage perfectly. Sam was the best replica of Jesus Christ with his bare body crucified to the cross and his long mane adorning the prickly crown.

Lucifer knew he had pushed the nails tight enough but it was now time to test that theory. Sam willed his eyes open when he felt a sudden change in the air around him. His head was burning with pain after whatever Lucifer had slid down his head. Pressure pushed his body downward as the surface of the cross moved. Pretty hazels snapped opened when the cross was slowly lifted off the ground. The ceiling was coming closer as Lucifer continued to lift it.

Once the cross was air-born, with the flick of his hand Lucifer began to angle it upright. Fear constricted Sam's body like a boa at the consequences of having all his weight burdened on his impaled limbs. " _Please please, please, ah, don't, please…_ " Sam begged vehemently but Lucifer didn't stop until the cross was hanging erect in the middle of the cage.

The moment the cross was vertical, Sam began panting as his chest expanded and his lungs worked overtime to draw full breaths. His entire body weight pulled at his arms effectively putting strain on his wounded palms. The brutal nail at his palms drew more blood from the tear and he tried fruitlessly to lift the pressure off his palms by putting some on his toe that was barely rested against the footrest. He cried out miserably when his toe skidded from the footrest that was slippery from his blood, adding more tension to the impaled points.

" _Ahhhh_ ", Sam cried as he watched through his fuzzy vision, trying to find an angle which wouldn't pull so viciously at his tortured limbs. Sadly, there was none. Every angle caused pained either in his palms or his feet and when by miracle he found one that eased off the pressure there, it only ended up in straining his breathing.

"Such an irony", Lucifer mused, "The brother that had so much faith in God and his angels ended up being my vessel and Dean, well Dean got to be the righteous one. What does this say Sam?"

Sam was exhausted. He was too occupied trying to hold himself up on the cross in a position that didn't tear at his wounds any more than they already were. His muscles cramped as if they were being wrung like a wet clothe, his whole body ached from merely existing, his breathing set his lungs on fire and Lucifer's words were like gasoline on his wounds. The condition that Sam was in made it next to impossible for him to speak.

Lucifer being aware of that answered his own question, "It is because you were always a monster, Sam. You were born with a black spot on your very soul, boy and that spot just kept growing bigger and bigger until your entire soul was consumed by its darkness. A ray of pitch black, buddy. That's how dark your soul is. That's the soul my vessel must possess and you, Sam, you are just that."

Sam wanted to deny Lucifer's every word. Tell the Devil how wrong he was, that he was good, that there was hope and people can change but his body kept betraying him as he choked on the words. Lucifer got a charge out of Sam's miserable attempts to ease his suffering. Poor boy, didn't even understand that with Lucifer in the same room there was no way for his ordeal to scale down even briefly. The man kept struggling weakly trying to find the equilibrium that didn't even exist, not for him, not with Lucifer in charge. The Dark Prince wondered what would steal Sam's life away: the hemorrhage, the asphyxiation or the exhaustion.

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 **AN:** Lucifer almost dropped the F bomb up there!

So what do you all think of this chapter? Anyone up for Chapter 8?


	8. Chapter 8

**AN** : Sammysmissingshoe & Kas3y, you guys are spoiling me with your reviews! Thank you so much!

Thank you my readers and apologies for updating so late. Here is the next chapter! Enjoy reading!

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 **Chapter 8**

"I like your car", Ben said while drying the dishes that Dean washed.

It was some time after dinner and Lisa was upstairs making their beds while both men finished cleaning the dishes. "Do you now?" Dean asked, soapy hands scrubbing the edges, to which Ben bobbed his head in agreement. Patting the plate dry, he looked up at Dean, "Yes, it's black and black is cool. I like it." Dean chuckled; the happy sound of it surprised him. "Me too, buddy."

Minutes slipped by and the only sound that filled Lisa Braeden's kitchen were Dean's carefree chuckles and Ben's curious questions regarding the Impala while the water ran soft and swift like a background noise, forgotten yet adding substance to the scene.

"Dean?" Ben called as Dean passed him another bowl to dry. Gauging his mood, he pushed, "Where's Sam?" The sudden change in Dean's expression made Ben wonder if he crossed a line he wasn't supposed to. Dean's heart sank, like a stone in still waters, at the mention of his little brother; the brother who was now imprisoned with the most notorious being to ever exist.

"Ben, it's late, get some sleep." Lisa's voice came from behind them where she was leaning against the door, arms crossed on her chest. "Yes, mom." Ben put the bowl on the counter and hung the towel to dry. Wishing Dean and Lisa goodnight he skipped to his room. It was tough for Dean to decide if Lisa intervening was a blessing or a curse. Though it helped to dodge the torrents of emotions that scared him to pieces but he knew forcing them in was just delaying the inevitable.

"Lisa", Dean started but was quickly stopped by Lisa,"You don't have to tell anything to Ben that you don't want to." Lisa walked to where Dean remained frozen against the counter, eyes misted and sorrowful as if reliving his worst nightmare. "I'll make sure he understands that." She carefully placed her hand on his shoulder not wanting to startle the dazed man. Her touch broke whatever fog that he was trapped in and his hard emerald eyes softened to ivy greens as he leaned into her waiting embrace.

"I know something happened to Sam and it hurt you too", Lisa murmured in the shell of his ear as he hid his face in the crook of her neck, "But it is okay to be hurting, it says whatever is hurting you means a great deal. Sam means a great deal. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," She closed her eyes and held Dean closer, making him feel the warmth of her love, "I'll respect that and Ben will too."

"Thanks, Lisa" Dean croaked, his voice heavy with the lump sitting in his throat.

Castiel stayed unseen by the two humans as he watched them comfort each other through the emotional turmoil that was wrecking inside them. That was all it took to change his mind when he was about to stumble into Dean's life and break it apart before it had a change to glue itself back together.

After talking to several of the angels in the Heaven –some of who still hated Castiel as passionately as they did when he went against Uriel and Zachariah– he discovered that Purgatory did exist. Unfortunately, his own existence wasn't any easier after the said discovery because its location was still unknown.

That was where Crowley and his belly crawling demons came into picture. The demon had managed to torture his black eyed associates into giving him the intel on Purgatory. Maybe the word of one pissed off demon wasn't credible enough but it was still a good start.

According to Crowley, based on whatever information he gathered from the demons and the whispers he picked up from within the cracks of Hell, Purgatory's location was only known to incredibly rare group of beings – the Alphas: the fathers of all things supernatural.

 _You want to open the gates to Purgatory, bag me the alphas and you'll have your rewards._

Crowley's words resonated in Castiels's mind, truth to be told; they played in an infinite loop in his head. Angels, he could handle, even the ones that held grudge against him dearly and Crowley knew what he was to do when it came to the black smoke-spilling population of Hell but when it came to Alphas, Castiel found himself utterly clueless.

Hunting wasn't his forte. Give him an order and he would follow it to the T or might even rebel it seeing how he lately did everything opposite of what he was expected. But hunting was never in his job description, that was what hunters were good at.

The angel's mind instantly jumped to Sam and Dean at the thought of 'hunting'. They were the only two hunters he not only knew closely but also ever relied on. Sure, there was Bobby but if trust was a two way street then Bobby taking the plane. The man never trusted anyone outside the Winchester clan. Speaking of, Mary and John was dead for too long and their youngest was swallowed into the pit. So the only man standing was Dean.

Castiel flew to Lisa's where knew he'd find Dean. Just as expected, Dean was there, and he was there with Ben, smiling and laughing, doing all sorts of mundane chores, something he had never seen the man do a lot in his life as a hunter.

Watching Dean with the people he loved, with people who loved him _back_ even when he was breaking inside, crumbled the angel's resolution of pulling him back in the savage life of hunting. Dean was finally happy. After everything the man lost and still continued to lose –the affection of the one person that mattered the most to him– Dean deserved every bit of happiness that came to him.

Castiel smiled softly, watching Dean learning to live without his dear brother and fled away from the happy family.

 **-SPN-**

"What the hell is that?!" Sam asked, voice shaking in fear at the sight of the terrifying creature standing next to Lucifer.

"I think you already know the answer to that one."

Even though Sam knew what it was, he wasn't sure he was ready to accept it. The wolf-like creature was as tall as Lucifer and it kept pawing the floor in an aggressive manner like a ferocious bull waiting to charge at the first glimpse of red. The blazing molten liquid instead of eyeballs was enough to send anyone else running for the hills. Its obsidian fur that covered the slender jaguar-like body had an oily slickness that made it glint even in the minimal lights and it had tribal tattoo like designs on all its legs that glowed bright orange like a fresh brand against the slick black. All four paws were afire, the tongues of flames licking them like a second fur. What scared Sam furthermore were the sharp claws that could very easily tear his flesh clean off his bones and if that didn't get the job done then surely those jagged canines would.

Sam slowly backed away from the terrifyingly dangerous looking animal, not wanting to engage with it in any manner. But as the cage walls closed in, he knew there was nowhere for him to run.

"This is Cadejo", Lucifer casually introduced as if it wasn't a grim looking hell-hound that he was introducing. "He is your opponent"

The words hit Sam like a brick, _"Opponent?"_

"Yes Sam, we are in a Cage, surely you saw a Cage match coming at some point." Given Lucifer's morbid sense of humor, he did, except he didn't see a freaking _hell-hound_ for an opponent. How was he supposed to fight a hell-hound?

"A freaking hell-hound?!" Sam shook his head, "I'm not fighting a hell-hound, Lucifer!"

Something dark crawled across Lucifer's face, "You say it like you have a choice here, buddy." In measured steps, Lucifer walked towards Sam. _At least the hound stayed put_. Sam didn't want that menacing creature anywhere near him. "You don't, because Cadejo here will attack you whether you fight him or not." A callous hand landed heavy on Sam's shoulder. "It's up to you if you want to die right away or after you put up some fight."

"Why are you doing this?" Sam asked, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

Lucifer sighed. "I have been a very good host to you, entertaining you everyday with new ummm... methods. It's about time you return the favor, don't you think?"

"Whipping me raw and bloody or crucifying me until my lungs burned out wasn't entertaining!" Sam bellowed in a brittle voice, almost breaking into quiet sob at the grotesque memory.

Lucifer's expression remained vacant. "I'm sorry you don't feel that way, Sam. I tried my best to make you feel at home." Then his face broke into a wide grin. "So chose!"

It was always between a rock and hard place, between Scylla and Charybdis, damned if you do, damned if you don't, when it came to Sam's choices in the Cage. Hell, even his entire life was stationed on such choices. One choice or another, it was always lose-lose situation for Sam. Why should this time be any different? _Lucifer or hell-hound?_

"I'm not gonna fight it." Sam sighed, he didn't want to give Lucifer that satisfaction of being chased by a hell-hound and at least this way he wasn't prolonging his inevitably painful death. He was well aware that this was giving up, that he was going down without a fight, making it easy for the devil to tear him apart once again. But hadn't he fought enough already? Hadn't he been defeated enough already? Didn't lose too many battles already?

Lucifer remained quiet, glacial eyes contemplating the defeated man.

"What's in it for me, huh?" Sam resigned, "Either ways, I still die painfully by the claws of your hell-hound. So tell me, Lucifer, why should I continue to fight when I know how bloody this going to be. When I know it still wouldn't be the end of it because with you tomorrow is new day and a new day means another day of me screaming endlessly as you torture my body?"

The archangel closely observed the hunter. He was resigning even before the fun part started. He couldn't have that. There's no fun playing with broken toys. "Oh Sam, if you want your pot sweetened, just ask." Lucifer's words confused Sam but he remained silence despite the desperate urge to know what he meant. "I'll make you a deal, you survive the next twenty minutes in the cage with my hell-hound and you'll get one day free from all bodily torture. We can even have a friendly chat."

When Lucifer said things like these, it made Sam wonder if he was crazy enough to start hallucinating already? "Chat? No torture?"

"Yes Sam, just that and no bodily torture." Lucifer's face was a calm facade making it impossible for Sam to guess his true intentions. "What do you say?" He could hear the gears in Sam's mind working already. "Will you fight that one day?"

Sam was still contemplating on the offer. His gaze shifting between Lucifer and his outstretched hand. "Shake on this?"

Sam knew better than to go making deals with the Devil but the truth was he was tired, _bone tired._ Enduring so much pain constantly, his body felt like it was wearing off every day. After every torture when he was put back together he felt small ounces energy leaving his body, like little pieces of him were falling apart, crumbling down, withering away slowly, waking up more tired and worn out than the previous day.

As time passed and he weighed the offer on the table, he found himself wanting to accept it. _A day in Hell with no torture_. "No cutting, burning, stabbing, whipping or flaying me open?" He confirmed, gauging Lucifer for any slip or tell that would give away his bluff but Lucifer's intention remained a mystery. "None of that." Lucifer promised making a cross in the air over his heart. Sam looked back at the hound sizing it as he pushed his hand to Lucifer who shook it cold and hard uttering, "Deal."

The cage started to swirl and transform into what was a smaller cage like the ones Sam had seen as a kid in wrestling matches. Thick bars ran around him, surrounding him, caging him with the hell-hound that was ready for its master's signal to make Sam its chew toy. Lucifer who was still standing before Sam put his hand on Sam's head and the moment he did, hot white light exploded behind his vision. The exposure so bright that it brought tears to his eyes, burning them, stinging them like thousand needles, stabbing them like daggers. "Ugh", Sam sobbed but the light kept exploding behind his eyes. Heat bubbled inside his eyes. Hot tears spilled, running down his cheek, leaving a scalding trail. The agonizing sensation made Sam wonder if that was how Pamela Barnes felt when Castiel's grace burned through her eyes.

Sam pressed two fingers and a thumb to his shut eyelids trying to numb the pulsing pain, while his other hand grabbed at the back of his head, finger almost digging into the skin preventing it from going big bang. His knees gave out under him and he collapsed boneless to the floor, the pain behind his eyes still fresh and raw. Then it was over.

He blinked his eyes waiting for the darkness to clear, eyelids finally opening to their full capacity without any pain. But Sam's problem didn't end there because his vision was still obscured by the thick blackness. That was when it hit him that his vision wasn't clearing at all. It was black, pitch black.

"Lu-Lucifer!" he called, the panic making his heart beat violently in his chest. "What did you do?!" _I can't see._ "What the hell did you do to me?!"

From a distance came the sound of a soft chuckle. "Just took away your vision, boy." Lucifer just confirmed his worst fear.

"How the hell am I supposed to fight a hell-hound without my vision?" Sam demanded. His hands were feeling the ground under him as he tried to push his body upright. Without his sight to guide him, he was disoriented and unbalanced but thankfully he didn't trip.

"You fought a handful of them on the surface," Lucifer's voice was even further away now, as if coming from the outside of the cage. "Remember?"

He did.

It was day they lost Jo and Ellen. His chest tightened, heavy from the invisible weight of the guilt drowning him in his own loathing. Though they had killed the hell-hounds they had lost their family. "You couldn't see them back then and yet you managed to ice them. I don't see how this time is any different."

"I wasn't alone. I had my family!" Sam retorted, shaking his head harder, hoping to shake off some of the blackness, blackness that refused to lift.

"Are you complaining, Sam?" Lucifer asked, his voice taking a dangerous edge, almost challenging Sam to agree so he could make him face the consequences. "You should thank me instead", Sam scoffed loud enough for Lucifer to hear it, "Thank me that I didn't drive red hot pokers through your pretty eyes."

Suddenly, the wind was knocked out from Sam's lungs as he was slammed face first against what felt like the walls of the cage, hands twisted behind him and held in an iron grip. He bit back a groan when his hair was pulled painfully, tipping his chin skywards. Cold breath wafted across his exposed neck, frosty lips whispering in the shell of his ear, "I might give you your vision back just so I can slowly drive the angry hot pokers through your lovely doe eyes and hear you scream an _orchestra._ Do you want that Sam?" Lucifer asked sweetly like he was talking about candy canes and not pokers to pick his eyes out, "Do you want me to skewer your eyes and make s'mores out of them?"

Sam shook his head quietly knowing Lucifer could very easily make true on the threat. "That's what I thought." Lucifer released Sam who dropped to the floor, head hung low in defeat." Twenty minutes isn't that big of deal and you have had much worse before. So get back up." Lucifer's voice boomed from somewhere and because there was an echo Sam failed to make out where it originated from. "Let the game begin!"

Sam didn't even get a fraction of second to brace himself as the hell-hound pounced on him, slamming his body so hard on the floor that despite the lack of his vision he still saw stars behind his eyes. A whistle sliced through the air and the weight that held Sam down was gone, heavy paws skittering away from him. "C'mon Sam, you didn't even try. I know you're better than this. Go, Sam!" Lucifer cheered.

Sam inhaled a mouthful and pushed off the ground, grabbing at the bars, knees wobbling, promising him another trip. He closed his eyes, focusing his other senses across the cage. The thundering crashed loud and harsh on his ear drums, the thrumming of his heart was yet another reminder of his amplifying fear. The sound of his own breathing was heavily audible accompanied by another set of breathing. It was heavier and more ragged than his.

His father's training ingrained in his very soul jump-started, every survival technique ever learnt, every first aid ever performed; every battle strategy grilled into his young mind erupted like fireworks behind his head.

 _Who is your enemy, boy?_

A hellhound, sir. Sam answered to authoritative part of his mind that communicated in his father's voice.

 _Assess the problem better!_ The voice was hollered.

Sam flinched internally. Without his vision he had no way of knowing if the voice was still inside his head or his father was really out there, a hallucination conjured by the Devil just to mess him up further. But his gut told him it was his mind helping him survive the next crucial twenty minutes.

There is hellhound in the cage with me and Lucifer wants me to fight it. But I can't see and I don't have any weapons on me.

 _No visions, means no distractions. No distractions means better –_

"Concentration." Sam finished quickly tapping into that bit of information. It was true that he couldn't see his opponent anymore but it was also true that he couldn't see Lucifer or his cold sneer or any other tactic he might use to distract him. An invisible shield settled around Sam blocking the unnecessary noises. It didn't mute entirely but the volume went down considerably until it was reduced to soft static low enough to ignore.

Sam took another deep breath, steadying his heart beat, the sound quiet now, just low rhythmic thumps. He accrued all his focus on his enemy, listening to the sounds associated with it. Heavy breathing, like loud huff and puff, was easy to distinguish. Sam turned his head, aligning his ear with the location from where the sound was the thickest. It was like tuning into a radio frequency that lost connection as soon as a weak one was established and it took some getting used to.

 _Are you aware of your enemy's whereabouts?_

He was. Yes, sir!

The change its breathing didn't go unnoticed and neither did the clicking of its claws as it sprinted in his direction. Unfortunately, Sam miscalculated its size when he jumped sideways to avoid the attack as one of its claws sliced at his bicep. "Ah!" Sam grunted, hand going up to the torn arm, following the trail of blood until jagged skin came in contact with his palm. The touch sent burning pain through his arm and he hissed clenching his teeth tight.

The heavy breathing returned and it came from behind him followed by the sound of the claws scraping fast against the floor. There was no time for him to move so he waited for the hound to reach him. Sam turned at waist, one hand still clutching at his bleeding bicep as he raised the injured arm to his face and ducked just in time to avoid the full blown attack.

The hell-hound circled Sam, gauging his strengths, searching for his weakness, snarling in menace at him. Sam concentrated his sole focus on the hell-hound. Ears tuned to every little sound it made, the heavy breathing, the snarling, the purring and the chest deep growling. His instincts were locked on the movements around him, the change in the air, the heat that emancipated from its body.

A whooshing sound alerted Sam just as the domineering voice yelled duck and he ducked to his right as the animal leaped over him and landed a small distance away from his crouched form. His lack of vision made him wobble on his knees and the time that it took him to straighten his balance out gave the hell-hound the window of opportunity and it pounced on Sam.

Sam crashed to the floor. Heavy weight pinning his chest down. He tried to breathe but the pressure didn't lift. Hot, humid, putrid puff of air steamed at his face. His own sweat mixing with the added moisture from the hound's rotten breath. Sam yelped as something sharp carved into his chest, burning like a deep cut.

The four gashes across his chest quickly bubbled hot blood, soaking Sam's shirt. The hunter kicked and thrashed but the creature held him down until he kicked at its belly. The hound howled curling into itself. Little pressure was lifted off Sam and he threw another kick in the same spot. With the satisfying yelp that the creature made, Sam kicked with both his legs dislodging the hound off of him.

Cadejo was beyond angry. It rose to its paws and lunged at the man. It wasn't personal before. But the man had made it that way when he kicked at it. With renewed ferocity, Cadejo made a run for its target. All it pursued was his blood. Waiting for the warm rivulets of blood to spill from his throat. It watched its target run but Cadejo was faster and caught up with its prey and pounced on him. Claws drawn, sharp and blood thirsty, just a breath away from its flesh. But the man changed his direction in the very last minute and Cadejo missed. Its prey might be not strong enough but it was a clever being.

There was no way Sam was going to beat the hell-hound and having no weapon in his arsenal wasn't helping either. His only trick of survival at the moment was to dodge and not engage it for as long as he could, or at least the twenty minutes.

 _Buy yourself some time, boy but don't tire yourself._

So Sam ran around the cage, dodging, zigzagging, and confusing the hell hound in one direction and jumping in another. Of course, being sightless it was far easier said than done. There were misses, near misses and then there were none. The hell-hound had slashed the side of his right thigh, nicked above his hip and tore at the back of his shoulder. The cuts were hemorrhaging heavily, the crimson liquid sucking his strength away as it spilled from his shredded skin.

To say Sam was beginning to tire was an understatement. The blood loss was another thing slowing him down. Sam was not as fast as he was when this had started, his movements weren't quick enough, his calculation was sloppy and he knew the hound was winning.

 _Do not give up, boy!_

Then Sam screamed.

Two sets of claws ripped his back, eight long jagged cuts parallel to each other, carved from his shoulders to his hips. The nerve endings screamed in agony, the blood seeping and soaking his shirt. Sam's knees turned to jelly and he slumped to the floor face first. That very moment Sam knew, he lost the match. Any second the hell-hound was going to rip away the last ounce of life left in him. A sad smile adorned his trembling lips. The thought of dying was a pleasing one. It robbed Lucifer of the sadistic pleasures that he derived from Sam's suffering.

So when the hound pressed its claws deeper in the open wounds on his back, Sam whimpered but didn't fight it even when the voice in his head screamed at him. He welcomed the pain because beyond it was the nothingness that he yearned for. Sure, he didn't remember being dead and put back together but the mere awareness of it was enough for him to desire it.

 _Fight it!_ It was a command and Sam was going to disobey it.

Again.

The first time Sam had disobeyed a command was the night he had left for Stanford. The second time was when his father had begged him to shoot at him while the yellow eyed demon was still possessing his body.

 _Fight it, son._ The tone was the same sad tone, lacking authority but laced with disappointment.

I can't. No more. _M'tired._

Just like that the voice faded into nothing and Sam awaited his sweet demise.

A soft whistle pierced the frigid air and Sam groaned as the weight was pulled off his back. _No no no no no. Come back. Just get it over with_.

He flinched when a touch feathered into his hair, almost too gentle to come from Lucifer. "You did it, Sam" Lucifer whispered softly, his cold breath ghosting over his face. "No?" Lucifer asked puzzled, when Sam repeated that two letter word over and over. "Yes, you survived. You made it alive, if not unscathed." He took in the inventory of Sam's injuries. _"Far_ from unscathed, if the rips across the whole of your back are anything but proof of that."

Sam's tattered body protested against the sudden forceful movement when someone hauled him up. But he was too worn out to stand on his own so he let his body lean heavily against Lucifer's who hoisted his arm in the air as he announced Sam as the survivor of the match to no one in particular. "You didn't really win." Lucifer said in an undertone to Sam. "You can't. Nobody can. Not against Cadejo."

"But did survive. So there you go, Sam." Lucifer carded his fingers through Sam sweat soaked hair, staring at his blank eyes. The otherwise hazels currently milky whites, a side effect of his blinding spell. "You get a free pass for one day."

Sam tried to make sense of Lucifer's babbles but he was too exhausted to keep up. He had had enough of listening to too many voices. He wanted to go back to the moment he was about to die and all the noises were drowned out but Lucifer had taken the blissful emptiness away from him.

Lucifer let go and Sam crumpled to a heap on the ground groaning in pain that flared through his battered body.

" _Sic him, boy_." Lucifer's words chilled Sam's spine. He wanted to die but not like this. Not like this! _This was how Dean..._ The memory from when those words were last used played out in front of him. The cries of his brother synced with his own broken wails as claws sharp like a katana tore the flesh from his ribs. Blood, rich and coppery, flooded his mouth as fresh stream of tears ran from the corner of his alabaster eyes.

Like a rabid dog, Cadejo mauled its prey, tearing the meat off its skin bit by bit. Glowing, red, ravenous eyes locked on the pulse beating under its prey's throat and the hound lapped its tongue hungrily at it. Opening its mouth, Cadejo sank its teeth, piercing the soft and heated skin ripping open Sam's throat, fountain of blood spraying at it, bathing it. His prey screamed, thrashed and then went slack, lying lifeless, immersed in his own blood.

* * *

 **AN** : Please tell me what you all think of this. I love to hear your insights!


	9. Chapter 9

**AN:** Hey y'all! You guys still here? I hope you are because I finally have a new chapter!

First things first, I'm really, really, really very sorry I haven't updated this fic in eternity but I appreciate your patience. The reason it took me this long to update is because I had different ways in which I wanted to work with this chapter but none of those felt up to the mark. Personally, I didn't want you give y'all something that I wasn't entirely happy with. So, I wrote and edited, then rewrote and reedited and so on. But it's here now and its miles long!

I wanted to treat y'all for Halloween with this update! Enjoy and Happy Halloween guys!

Million thank yous to my readers, my readers who review (kas3y and sammysmissingshoe) and my readers who follow/favorite my story!

* * *

 **Chapter 9**

For days, Castiel searched for hunters he wanted to trust enough to involve them into finding Purgatory but those days had turned into weeks and weeks had turned into a month. He sought hunters after hunters but none of them came close enough to what he saw in the Winchesters. No hunters were clever enough, smart enough or trustworthy enough. Bottom line: no hunters were the Winchesters. That's who he needed to get the job done and so Castiel had paid Dean an incognito visit but it didn't feel right to wreck his life, not after everything the man had sacrificed.

Desperate times, desperate measures had brought the angel to Crowley's doorsteps once again. It didn't surprise him that that cunning demon was two steps ahead already. He knew all about the wars in Heaven since the situation in Hell wasn't any different after all. With Lucifer back in the box, his devotees retreating in to the shadows, Hell was like a chicken running without its head. The absence of a leader in both dimensions had led to the unlikely partnership between Castiel and Crowley.

The crossroads demons had managed to locate Mary's maiden kin: the Campbell's. It was only the matter of putting them up to the task of finding the alphas without advertising that the commands were coming from a demon. "Get your recruits so we can sic them on the alphas," he had told Castiel.

The angel on the other hand wasn't succeeding at recruiting the hunters. A job like this demanded a calculated hunter, who studied all possible ways the mission could go wrong and then marched into it with an intelligent solution. Someone with vision, someone with a plan, someone like Sam.

 _Sam!_

But he was gone. Trapped in Hell. So was Dean until Castiel raised him from perdition. The orders to raise Sam from Hell should have come by now.

Determined, the angel flew to Heaven.

 **-SPN-**

Sam lost the track of time. The only thing he was aware of was the constant pain and feeling of despair. Everyday Lucifer challenged himself to find more gruesome and creative ways to torture Sam. Sam on the other hand had surpassed his own limits of screaming. To say they both had broken their own records on daily basis was an understatement.

There were good days in Hell and then there were the bad ones. Good days were those when Lucifer was angry, at what it didn't matter because he found ways to strike at Sam with that bubbling rage. But those were the good days because Lucifer just stabbed Sam with whatever was readily available and then left his body in peace to glue back together to form a new canvas. There were no words, mockery or gentle humming of lullabies. Just a brutal stab in the heart or slit throat or a bullet between the eyes or simply decapitation and it was over. Sam died quickly without the unnecessary suffering. Those were the kind of days that Sam longed for. They were the good days.

But they were very few in comparison to the bad days. Every day that Lucifer smiled was a bad day for Sam because then it meant that he was in a jolly good mood and a Lucifer in a jolly good mood always loved playing with his toy. The games he played were most likely inspired from the torture devices used in roman times. Without any hesitation, he subjected Sam to the horrendous torture, the kind that broke his body and scarred his soul.

Sam begged every single time, cried out, even screamed until he ripped his throat bloody in hopes that delighting the devil, Lucifer would take it easy on him but it only served as an incentive to hurt him cruelly, inspired him to dial it up a notch and draw more from the writhing hunter.

There were times when Sam wished to go back in time and never take the leap into the pit knowing what laid ahead. But deep down he knew that even if he turned back the time he would still make that jump if it meant keeping the people he loved safe, keeping Dean safe, if it meant he wasn't the monster that everyone thought he was.

But being brave in the face of the Devil, especially the when the devil is wearing the face your brother who means everything to you is twisting the knife deeper in your gut and relishing your screams is tough.

For years and years, Lucifer broke Sam, in both body and mind and yet it was always a different kind of torture. He never, not even once repeated any of the methods. For that, Sam didn't know if he was glad or not especially since the old methods paled in comparison to the new ones.

The things that Lucifer did to Sam, to his body, to his soul, put the dark medieval ages to shame. Sam was whipped bloody with shards encrusted whips, he was strapped to a rack and had his limbs pulled away from him until they were severed from his body. He was skinned alive. He was crammed into a box that was two sizes smaller for him and buried alive. He was tied to a wheel that looked like it belonged to the fancy carriages from ancient times and beaten with hammer until all his bones shattered. It was quick but brutal just like the being that suggested it: Michael. Yes, Lucifer was feeling very charitable that day so he let had Michael out and they both had clubbed Sam's body into a fleshly pulp and mangled sack of splintered bones.

One other time, Lucifer just kept cutting, some shallow cuts, other deep, some small cuts, other long trails of crimsons. He must have made at least a thousand cuts on his miles long of tanned skin. But that wasn't even the worst part. The worst was him pulling bits and flakes of skins until Sam's body was beyond recognition.

One of those days, Lucifer made true on his promise and had taken hot pokers to Sam's eyes. Lucifer was upset over something and Sam was being his defiant self. The archangel already had enough of Sam's attitude so he threw Sam on the rack, pulled his eyelids open with clamps and plunged the heated metal into the delicate orbs. Sam had died from only the pain that day.

Sometimes, Lucifer even healed Sam when he was on the brink of dying just to prolong his suffering. It was cruel and it the forced the tortured hunter to endure the agony a little longer. Sam cried and begged for his misery to end, for the pain to be taken away but Lucifer never showed him that kind of mercy. He didn't even pretend not to hear Sam's pained moans and pitiful wails, in fact he encouraged him, said he suffered so tragically, it was theatric.

For a vessel that was meant to hold Lucifer, Sam's body broke very easily. Lucifer took immense pleasure in that and cherished every minute of the process. The ease with which Sam's body broke, his fragile bones crumbling in his grip. The rich blood flowing hot and heavy from the hole in his abdomen, settling into thick pools around him. The elastic feel of his flesh and the gelatinousness of his insides wrapped his fingers warming them like a pair of gloves. The symphony of Sam's screams and the soft pained whimpers when the boy could scream no longer. The light slowly leaving his glassy hazel eyes even when he wasn't dead. What a beautifully macabre sight to behold!

 **-SPN-**

"Do we have the orders?" Castiel asked Zuriel who like himself had taken the reigns to save Heaven after the showdown at the cemetery.

"Orders for what?" the other angel asked, a genuine confusion masking his otherwise impassive face.

"To save Sam" Seeing the confusion lengthen, Castiel explained further, "To raise Sam Winchester from Hell."

The change in Zuriel's expression was fast. The confusion cleared and disgust took its place. "There are no orders for _that_ one." He answered, his voice depraved of all emotions, a deep frown fashioning his face.

A month had passed and there were no orders to resurrect Sam? The boy who gave his everything to save the world didn't deserve saving? Castiel had waited and hoped that the order would come if not to him, another angel. Shame, it hadn't already come.

If there were orders to resurrect Sam, he would be the first angel to know about it. "But there will be, right?" Castiel asked waiting for the other angel to agree with him. "Brother?" he pressed when Zuriel remained mute, neither agreeing nor denying the possibility.

"Castiel, you have to accept that maybe those orders might never come." Zuriel's words birthed several emotions inside the trench coat donning angel. "Do not say that, Zuriel", his voice boomed, rolling and becoming one with the thunder that cracked through the sky.

"Castiel, I'm not saying anything. I'm preparing you to a possibility that you haven't considered when you should have especially since it's very much likely to happen. Orders to save _it_ might never come."

"But there were orders for Dean!" Castiel retorted trying to get Zuriel see his side of the event. He still remembered the moment when he was given the task to resurrect Dean from Hell. Back then, he was a soldier that followed order without hesitation. Yet, he clearly remembered wondering what made this particular soul so special that his entire garrison was put up to the task of resurrection. The ultimate power of pulling the soul from the racks of hell was solely entrusted into Castiel's hands.

The blonde angel sighed as if he were talking to a petulant five year old. "Dean needed to be saved. I'll admit we were a little too late to save him but we saved him because he was Michael's sword. But it..." Zuriel didn't dare finish his sentence after the menacing way Castiel glared at him.  
"But _Sam_ ", Castiel corrected, anger dripping from his mouth, "Sam doesn't need saving because he was Lucifer's vessel?"

"Do not put words in my mouth, brother!" Zuriel warned.

"Then finish what you started!" Castiel yelled, the anger all of foreign to him.

Zuriel's jaw twitched agitation. He took a deep breath and began explaining, "Sam wasn't supposed to make it through the battle?"

"He didn't," Castiel interrupted, but stopped, wanting to see where Zuriel was going with this. "No, Castiel, that's not what I'm saying. If Lucifer and Michael had butted heads in that cemetery, Michael would have won, killing Lucifer and ultimately Sam in the process. That was the prophecy. To raise Lucifer from Hell only to end him once and for all. That is why Heaven's soldiers were playing their part to free Lucifer."

"What?" Castiel demanded. Zuriel was a fool to think Castiel was going to believe the prophecy lies that he was weaving.

"All but few knew about this prophecy. If they would have gone along with God's plan, Sam would be in heaven by now."

Castiel felt as if someone dunked him in cold water. "This can't be true", he mumbled, needing a minute to right himself. The battle inside Castiel was evident, even Zuriel had sensed it.  
"If what you're saying is true, then why isn't Sam's soul in heaven?"

"Brother, you're not that naive. Don't you see?" Zuriel asked agitated. "Sam chose this. Nobody forced him to jump in the pit. It was his decision. He called it upon himself. You know that, don't you? I believe you were there with him in that cemetery."

"He saved the world…" Castiel argued.

"At what cost though?" Zuriel was red in the face. "He locked up Michael in the pit. Do not be surprised if the Heaven doesn't want to save Sam from the fate he chose. After everything that Sam did, right from drinking demon's blood, sleeping with one and letting Lucifer free, God still allowed his soul into heaven but the boy just doesn't know when to stop. All he had to do was play his part and he would have been in heaven right now. What is happening to him is his own doing."

Castiel was lost for words. If Zuriel wasn't ready for this he could bet that no other angel would be either.

"Castiel, brother, I know what you're thinking. I've known you long enough to know you'll try and let Sam out on your own. But do not do this."

"If you think I won't, then you truly don't know me that well." Castiel glared at Zuriel ensuring the determination was clear in his blue yes.

Zuriel was shell-shocked. Castiel was truly going to resurrect one insignificant human from the depths of Hell and not Hell alone, but from Lucifer's Cage. "Sam is in Hell, in Lucifer's Cage! His body _and_ soul are both trapped there. After everything that had to be done to put the Devil back in the box, do you really want to go rattling the bars of his Cage again?"

Zuriel was right and Castiel knew that. A year ago, he might have agreed with Zuriel that Sam locked in the cage was for the great good, a necessary sacrifice, a _well deserved fate_ even but in the matter of last year he got the opportunity to know Sam better. He witnessed Sam rising above every accusation, cleaning his mess and making up for his mistakes. He saw him become the man he never knew he was.

The angels always talked ill of him. They saw him as a pestiferous bug that needed to be squashed. But spending more time with the Winchesters made Castiel realize how truly blinded and misguided he was when it came to Sam. It had taken him long but eventually he began considering Sam as a friend, family even.

"I'm going to save Sam Winchester." Castiel said in absolute resolution.

Ever-so pleased Zuriel became furious. "Then you'll once again find yourself against all angels."

 **-SPN-**

Zuriel was as big of a disappointment as every other angel. Castiel learnt that no angel wanted to save Sam, in their pea brains, Sam got everything he deserved. Crowley and his black-eyed pests were no better either. The salesman was visibly shaking at the mere mention of the Cage. _When I said recruit, I didn't mean shark's bait, you moron!_ Paranoid of what Castiel might do, he tightened Hell's security ensuring that Castiel would not be allowed to scavenger outside the Gates of Hell let alone enter and risk breaking into Lucifer's cage.

Castiel was sad to learn that no one wanted Sam back. Dean obviously did, but in a way he did not because it was Sam's dying wish for Dean to move on and not go knocking the doors of Hell and making crossroad deals to save him. Bobby was always the wise one of all the hunters. He knew the risks involved to bringing his younger surrogate back. So he did what hunters did the best: drowned his sorrow with a bottle of Jack and picking on the first rugaru that he crossed paths with. Other than them, everyone else that was acquainted with Sam was either dead or wished the boy stayed dead. Funny how sometimes wishes were granted so easily.

Bringing Sam back was harder than he expected. The angel knew it not because he had already been on the same mission when he resurrected Dean but because he had already tried it once in the cemetery after he fled from Dean's car.

Resurrecting Bobby was like assembling Lego blocks together, a child's play. Fixing Dean physically was much easier than that but bringing Sam back was next to impossible because his body was in Hell as well. It was like creating life. Something that only God did. Unfortunately, God was busy playing the absent parent.

The fact that nobody wanted to save Sam, infuriated Castiel and so he decided that if orders to save him wouldn't come from anyone else, he would save him on his own command.

 **-SPN-**

"Cheer up, buddy!" Lucifer encouraged giddily to a very exhausted Sam who was sitting at a far corner of the Cage. His arms were draped around his knees that were drawn closer to his chest. He was shivering from both cold and fear, no traces of fight visible in his cowering frame. "It is your lucky day today!" revealed the Devil, smiling brighter than the sun. Experience had taught Sam it was never a good sign. A cheerful Lucifer meant inevitably bone-deep agony accompanied by oceans of his freshly spilled blood.

"I don't want to be lucky." Sam replied; face still hidden behind the circle of his arms. He didn't want to be lucky. Not a single day in Hell was even remotely good for him. Clearly it wouldn't be Hell if it were but Sam's wearied body longed for a break and his broken mind pursued peace.

"But, Sam", Lucifer sank down on his haunches in front of the anxious hunter. He placed hand on his shaky shoulder and the hunter flinched so hard it must have rattled his bones inside. "You have earned this. Remember? No cutting, slicing, choking, stabbing, burning for one entire day! A free pass!"

Sam stopped shaking or at least he wasn't shaking as violently as he was before. From behind the chestnut curtain, hazel orbs peeked at Lucifer. Sam never looked so young before, Lucifer thought. He almost wanted to take a knife to his heart right there. There was something strangely alluring about his child-like innocence that begged to be tortured.

"A free pass?" Sam asked hesitantly. A violent shudder ran through him when Lucifer gripped both his shoulders. His astonished gaze jumped from the cold digits gripping his shoulders to the joyful face of the Devil crouched before him.

"Do I need to spell it out for you, buddy?" Lucifer pulled his hands away and crossed them in front of his in a strict teacher demeanor.

"N-no. I'm s-sorry", Sam stuttered, his hands quickly flying to his face, bracing against the likely blows. "I'm sorry, Lucifer. Please I'm sorry." Sam sobbed. He remembered the baseball bat with a barb-wire bundled around. Lucifer had used it once to 'knock some sense' into him. He had screamed for Lucifer to stop but it didn't stop, not until he Sam's head was cracked in two. Sam didn't think he could take blows like that again. No matter how many times his body could be put back together, his broken mind was left in pieces.

"Good. That bat did teach you a lesson for life, didn't it?" Lucifer smiled a crooked smile as if he was recalling a very pleasant memory. He looked down at Sam and said, "Follow me."

The docile hunter followed Lucifer around the Cage. They stopped in a corner that was always hidden in shadows. An uncomfortable chill ran through Sam's body and he looked around hesitantly.

"Sit." Lucifer ordered, pointing in the direction of a wooden chair. Sam followed the order without throwing any fits. Soft clicks and tightness around his wrists alerted Sam of the handcuffs locking in place.

Sam's breathe quickened and his heart threatened to break right through his rib cage. Restraints promised excruciating pain and insufferable torture. He looked at the cuff and then at Lucifer's face and back to cuffs, already tugging at them, wanting to be set free.

"B-but you said…" Sam started and stopped when Lucifer's face that looked creepier under shadows broke into the all too familiar I'm-not-going-to-hurt-you-but-I-will-if-I-have-to smile.

"Good. I just want to talk," Lucifer said in a friendly tone. "There is no reason for me to hurt you as long as I feel you're being accommodating and true. The handcuffs come into play only if you disobey."

"What will you do if…" Sam's fear stopped him from finishing the question.

Lucifer's lips stretched up to his wrinkled eyes as he answered, "Disobey and find out for yourself."

Sam decided not to.

It turned out, Lucifer was insatiably curious. He inquired about Sam's general beliefs, his opinions on random subject matters, his plan for life if things were normal and so on. Sam answered all of them, first in fear and later in ease because for once he had something other than pain to think about.

Sam was still scared if his constant twisting and clenching of his wrists was any proof of that. He wasn't doing it to free himself, only because he was agitated with fear. The archangel chose to ignore it and kept the Q&A uninterrupted.

Lucifer was strangely easy to talk to. He asked varied questions and listened attentively as Sam answered them diligently. There were times he forgot he was talking to Lucifer. Instead, he let his mind delve into the almost hazy memories of his life and allowed his heart to find solace in blurred faces of his loved ones.

Eventually the questions changed, they became tricky to answer. They were no more the curious ones, but more of the interrogative kind and Sam started to realize in slow panic that that was the plan all along. Get Sam to a question that he is reluctant to answer.

 _There is no reason for me to hurt you as long as I feel you're being accommodating and true. The handcuffs come into play only if you disobey._

Sam knew he was in for a great betrayal.

"Tell me something, how did you feel about drinking demon blood?" Lucifer inquired, circling around Sam who was fidgeting with his bounds. "Did you feel powerful?" He suggested further, "Less human? More monster?"

At the last word, Sam's pain glazed eyes glanced at Lucifer. This was the question that was going to turn things sour for him. This was supposed to be his day; a day free from pain and Lucifer had so easily fooled him. He had found a loop-hole was going twist this in to another massacre. "Why do you care?"

"Because I'm the only one who cares for you, Sam", Lucifer explained taking slow strides to the restrained hunter. The handcuffs encircling his wrists clinked softly as he tried to shrink away from the Devil. He whimpered when the cold fingers wrapped around his chaffed wrists. Putting just amount of pressure on the broken skin, Lucifer bent to Sam's level and cooed softly, "I'm the only one who has ever cared for you."

"No," Sam whispered weakly, turning away from his penetrating gaze, "My family and friends cared for me."

A sad smile spread across Lucifer's face. "Then why did you run away from them?"  
Whenever something crumbled inside Sam, his face displayed it vividly and Lucifer loved these moments as much as he loved hearing Sam scream bloody murder.

"Here's what I think", Lucifer elaborated standing upright and squaring his arms, "Ever since your noggin could think for itself, you were aware of the darkness inside you. You always knew, deep down you were one of those evils that your father and brother hunted all their lives. In your little black heart you knew that just like your mother, you were going to get everyone around you killed. Poor Jess was dead the moment she laid her eyes on you. It didn't stop there. Pamela, Jo and Ellen, they all died because of you, Sam. You know who takes innocent lives? Monsters!"

"By the way," Lucifer went on, "You were always drawn to your own kind. I suppose Meg was the very first one. Then came Madison, then Ruby, even Lilith had eyes for you."

"Speaking of that wench, I'm not happy that Dean killed her, I wanted to be the one to end her." His eyes gleamed with darkness.

"But she freed you," Sam didn't know where Lucifer was going with this conversation.

"She helped, but it was you who freed me, Sam. All she did was put her filthy claws on something that was meant for me." A boney digit was pointed in Sam's direction. "You. She made sure everyone in Hell knew how she had you wrapped around her finger and her _waist_ ," he added with a mischievous wink, "You know what I'm talking about, right?"

Sam dropped his head down in shame. Ever since he'd learnt the truth about Ruby's intentions, the heinous deeds that Ruby and he did in the dark of the nights had always haunted him. Ruby had spread the red carpet to for his descent in to the darkness and Sam had blindly walked the path.

"I'll take that as a yes", Lucifer accurately read into his silence and continued his explanation, "Your 'kiss n tell' demon girlfriend left nothing to the imagination. We all heard about your kinky adventures." He giggled. "She was convinced you even felt something for her. Is that true, Sam?"

Ridiculous is what it was! Lucifer wasn't possibly implying that he loved Ruby, was he? It was absurd to even think about it. He never felt anything for that black-eyed bitch. _Except for the insatiable hunger for her blood_. But he wasn't going to accept it. Not to Lucifer.

"No." Sam answered with one word and sharp glance at the Lucifer.

"If it wasn't the _L-word_ situation then why did you let her be your guiding light? Was it her blood?"

Sam ignored him and cast his tired eyes down. His hair was pulled behind suddenly. Tipping his chin up and he was forced to meet the Devil in the eye. "I asked you a question, Sammy".

Sam flinched at the mention of his nickname. No one but Dean was allowed to call him that and no one included Satan too. "It's Sam!" he corrected spitting in Lucifer's face.

The blow was expected but Sam still groaned as the pain bloomed from his cheek to his jaw and then fanned all across the left of his face. The coppery taste in his mouth that was he was all too familiar with saturated his tongue. The slimy coagulated mixture of blood and saliva dribbled down his split lip.

"Fine, _Sam_ , you don't want to talk?" Lucifer gripped Sam's jaw. "No worries, but I will get my answers."

Sam's heart thrummed in anticipation. What was it going to be this time? Was he going to drown him? Set him on fire? Tear his limbs? It didn't matter because Lucifer never repeated his methods which meant Sam was always in for a surprise. By god, did Sam hate surprises!

Lucifer let go off his chin and bent down to Sam's level again, his hand slowly advancing in his direction, as if reaching to grab something. _He is going to choke me to death_. _Wouldn't be the first time though._ It was ironic to think that there was comfort in being choked to death as opposed other means of dying.

To Sam's dismay, the hand looked like it wasn't going for the throat after all. It was headed for his heart. Lucifer had a knack for ripping his heart out and literally breaking it followed by unhealthy sarcastic humor. For a moment Sam let his mind wonder from where the fallen archangel had picked up the morbid wittiness? Or did he just develop it over the time in his solitary confinement?

Sam didn't get a chance to find out because the pain struck him like a lightning bolt. The agonized human looked down in pure horror. Lucifer's hand was inside him. It was not inside his body like it should be though. Nevertheless, Lucifer's cold digits were holding something inside him but there was too much pain fogging his mind to form a coherent thought.

The pain was exploding, ripping him from the inside. Every scar, every wound felt like it was being torn open again. _All at once_. His heart was pounding too fast too hard but he didn't scream. He couldn't even if he wanted to. The pain was at such a peak that it exhausted every bit of him but there was no vent for it. It kept building and building, wearing Sam down as his muscles tightened and curled in and began shrinking. His body was locked between wanting to fold into itself and tearing apart. The blissful darkness was there but oh-so out of his reach.

Sam Winchester lit up like a Christmas tree, more like a _bloody_ Christmas tree, if Lucifer was being honest. Every single nerve in his body gleamed red under all that sun-tanned skin, mapping out their paths. The boy was panting and writhing in the chair. His lips were stretched around the silent scream that was jammed in his throat. His eyes were screwed shut but they were watering; hushed crying being his only outlet for the ache. He was pulling miserably at his restraints that cut deeper and deeper with every moment. His entire existence screamed for some relief but Lucifer continued fondling his soul.

Souls were the singular most remarkable creation of his Father. He created them with pure energy, nurtured them with love and then handed them for free to the petty humans! As if His undivided love wasn't enough, He bestowed them with souls. That was as good as an angel being granted wings.

Lucifer was never too fond of souls. They made the host weak. In fact, he hated them. Until now.

Within his clutches, was the soul of his true vessel, the soul of the boy-king, and above everything else, the soul was sensitive. It felt things and emotions too deeply. These were the kinds of souls that Hell thirsted for but they were too wise to fall for any of Hell's treachery. But Sam, he waltzed right in to his Cage.

Even after spending years with Lucifer and being subjected to all kinds of torture his soul still had an awe-inspiring radiance but that was soon going to change. Souls were nothing if not unbreakable but that didn't mean they didn't scar and Sam's soul was scarred too. Most of which was Lucifer's doings but there were scars that it carried from before its time in the Cage.

The oldest and probably the earliest scars were from the time it was six months old. Sam was too young to understand what had happened to his mother but his soul knew. The older he grew, so did the number of scars on his soul. By the time he was a boy of eight years, his soul was littered with them, some shallow, others deep.

The first tear in his soul came from Jessica's death, other followed in rapid succession from the death of John, Madison and Dean's. His brother's death had ripped a fairly large tear into his soul, after which it was never the same. It had become more susceptible and that was when the darkness in his soul began to breed. Ruby's blood did more than just taint his body. It stained his soul, swirled the darkness in him and changed his soul to a murky, demon blood-infused concoction of infernal desire for power.

"Power." Lucifer breathed as he pulled his hand away from Sam's essence.

Sam was squirming in the after effects of whatever the hell Lucifer had done to him. His body curled inwardly, as much as it was possible for it, considering whatever little give the handcuffs presented. There was a loud ringing in his head and no matter how many deep breaths he took his lungs just weren't ready to work.

"It was about power, wasn't it?" Lucifer asked looking completely enamored. "You thought Ruby's blood would give you the power to change your life. Well, in a way it did change the illusion of life you knew of. It led you straight to me, Sam, like it was supposed. Like it was meant to. Like destiny."

"W-what the hell are you talking about?" Sam managed to ask before his body gave in to the fits of cough that shook his frail frame.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk" Lucifer waved his finger at Sam's bewildered face, "Don't be naïve, Sam. I saw it in your soul. "I saw everything." Sam was about to deny but Lucifer beat him to it, "Don't forget I've been inside your head. It doesn't get any better than that. I knew you were above the physical plane. It was never about the bodily pleasure for you. It was just about the power that you acquired from her blood. You thought killing Lilith would make you powerful and all the demons would fear you. Look how that turned out for you, buddy. It made you the monster you were meant to be."

Sam didn't dare utter a word. There was no winning this debate because deep down, a part of him agreed with Lucifer.

"Daddy always knew you were a monster, after all you killed you mommy in matter of six months after you were born? Do you think Dean ever saw you for who are?"

 _No, don't say that_. _No! Dean loved me!_ Sam remained quiet but it was a chaos inside his mind.

"Why did he make the deal to bring you back though?" Lucifer mused then answered his own question, "Maybe because after daddy let him in on the big secret about his little brother, Dean had to get away from you because he couldn't kill you. So what did he do? He made an unbreakable, irrevocable short tenured deal with a demon. This way he could rid himself of his evil little brother and wouldn't even get blamed for it."

"Shut up!" Sam yelled in anger. Lucifer had questioned his brother's love. Sam wasn't going to let that go. "You know nothing about Dean or why he did what he did!"

"You're right", Lucifer agreed stroking his chin. "I intend to find out."

Once again Lucifer thrust his hand inside Sam's middle and curled his fingers tightly around his soul.

Enduring for the second time didn't make it any easier. The agony was too intense, its presence heavy and piercing. Invisible hands were choking him, squeezing the breaths he desperately managed to take in. It felt like there was a large cavity in his middle and a black hole kept sucking away the last wisps of warmth, happiness and hope. It created a void inside Sam that absorbed everything leaving behind only pain and despair. He was wrung of everything that defined his entire being.

Sam's soul was soft to touch, like butterfly's wings, velvety and fragile. It felt exquisite in his fingers, even better than the wetness of his blood or the cushiony feeling of his beating heart.

A gentle tug to the soul could bring so much agony; Lucifer wondered and smiled wickedly thinking of all the things he wanted to do the soul fluttering in his clutches. Souls were indestructible but there were things equally worse that could be done. Luckily, Lucifer knew most of them.

It was like trying to keep your head above the water while being stuck in a violent maelstrom of frigid ice cold water and having your lungs crushed by a boa. Thousand needles were punctured into his skin, in to his bones. Something was deliberately ripping the stitches of his wounds that were healed long ago, pulling and tearing them open.

 _Stop… please, please, please… stop_! No words came out.

When Lucifer pulled away, Sam slumped in the chair; his wrists were marred with raw rings of split and raised skin and blood was seeping out sluggishly from the wounds. He felt worse, more worn out, exhausted. This was worse than any physical torture he'd ever endured. It left him feeling hopeless, unloved and cold.

"Please..." Sam mumbled and then stopped, too tired to speak.

"Please what?" Lucifer asked pointedly.

"Just stop" Sam pleaded, his head lolling, too heavy for his tired body to lift. "You proved your point. I'm a monster."

That caught Lucifer unguarded. The great Sam Winchester was finally broken and all it took was _gentle_ touch to his soul.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quiet catch that. Can you repeat?" Lucifer requested, an amused grin spreading on his face. "A little louder this time."

Sam looked resigned. He held Lucifer's gaze and confessed as loud as he could, "I'm a monster!"

Lucifer's face broke into a satisfied grin and he once again approached Sam who tried to scurry away but failed. "Let's find out just how much of a monster you really are!"

"Please no..." Sam cried weakly. It didn't take long after Lucifer plunged his hand into his body, fingers wrapping around his abused soul that Sam screamed.

 **-SPN-**

"This is suicide, Castiel" the reaper warned but was utterly helpless in the binding spell. "Genocide, even!"

"You're not here to make judgments. You're here to take me to the Cage."

"Why me?" the reaper asked, sighing heavily.

"Because Death is not here and you're a friend," Castiel explained. Why didn't anyone see eye to eye with him?

"I'm a reaper and reapers are nobody's friends."

"What about Dean?" the angel objected, the blade sliding down his palm just in case illusion of threat is needed.

"Dean's not a friend and he's still alive and kicking last I checked. This isn't about him, is it?"

"You know it is, Tessa" Castiel confessed. "Dean's happiness lies in Sam's well being."

"There's a natural order!" Tessa exclaimed. "We cannot have Winchesters disrupting it. This has got to stop. Dean will just have to learn to live without his brother. Everyone has to deal with deaths of their beloved. Why should Dean be the exception?"

"But Sam's not dead. He is in Lucifer's cage." Castiel interjected. If at least one person could see things his way.

Unbelievable! Castiel was out of his mind. "That's all the more reason why you shouldn't go knocking his cage. It's dangerous." Tessa said wishing it went through his thick skull. "If anything goes wrong even by a fraction Sam's sacrifice will mean nothing. Is that what you want?"

The angel remained quiet. He knew the risks. He knew what would happen if something were to go wrong in the mission. He might as well start Apocalypse Part Two. But Sam was family and he needed saving.

"Either you help or I start wasting your reaper friends until I find the one that sees things my way" Castiel threatened, waving the angel blade in her direction.

"You wouldn't dare," Tessa goaded. "You don't have what it takes."

Castiel saw the fear behind the brave facade. "I rebelled against my own kind, my own brothers. You are just reapers." It was funny seeing a reaper shake with fear when they incur the same feeling in the souls they reap. He approached Tessa who instantly took a step away from the avenging angel. "Tessa," Castiel began, "I don't want to hold a blade against your neck."

"Sure, I can tell" Tessa mocked, glaring straight at the blade in the angel's hand.

"I will not hesitate to do it." Castiel warned. "You owe it to Winchesters. They saved your life."

There was no denying that but risking the world another apocalypse over one soul didn't seem fair enough. One soul against millions?

"Tessa you know what happens to souls in Hell. You have taken souls there. We need to save Sam" Castiel tried again, in softer tone this time.

"I'm saying this as a friend. Do not do this. Sam has been in the cage with the Devil for almost a month, years in Hell's time. Can you imagine what must have happened to his soul?"

"In the words of a good friend: we'll cross that bridge when we come to." The angel said with a sad smile.

Tessa smiled back, she knew this _good_ friend. "Fine, but these need to come off." she commanded looking at the tendril like grace binding her wrists.

Castiel narrowed his eyes.

"I'm not gonna run and it's not like you can't find me."

* * *

 **AN:** Phew! Pretty lengthy eh? Guys, please do review and tell me what you like, what you don't like! Also I have other fics and a few one-shots in progress and I'll be uploading them soon. So hope to see y'all there!


	10. Chapter 10

Once you're inside, you'll have to work fast," Tessa warned Castiel who hissed as she dragged the angel blade on his chest, slicing open another line of crimson. "The sigil will fade once your grace starts to heal this vessel."

"Why aren't we doing this with a simple knife?" Castiel asked his voice strained more than usual, courtesy of holding back gasps.

Tessa looked up at him dumbfounded. "We need this sigil to last long. Your grace will heal a simple knife wound like that." She snapped her fingers in his face and resumed the working on the sigil.

When Tessa had agreed to help Castiel save Sam, she put up her condition. She would only help Castiel in and out of the cage. Going inside the cage and pulling Sam out was something Castiel had to do on his own. The angel still had the horsemen rings. He had suggested using those to open the Cage but Tessa had instantly shunned that 'reckless and stupid' idea saying that Lucifer would spring out of the Cage like Jack in the Box even before they finish reciting the spell.

"If we're going to breach the bars of the cage, we'll have to do it subtly, we cannot ring the bell and warn the Devil we are coming", she explained.

So in the next few days, they searched for ways to get into the cage. It was proving next to impossible to breach the cage without causing apocalypse 2.0. They wasted more days in searching and each day Tessa reminded him that Sam's condition was deteriorating if it hadn't already. Finally, they came across an ancient sigil that claimed to let the person invade the cage undetected. Of course, it was one of those things that hadn't been tried and came with no guarantee whatsoever.

"If the Cage detects your presence it can either destroy you or hold you its prisoner. Are ready for that Castiel?" Tessa had asked and the concern for him after their very little acquaintance was really humorous.

"I'm going to save, Sam, whatever the consequences," Castiel said surprising himself. What had started as a mission to resurrect a hunter turned to into rescue operation for a dear friend. Human emotions still surprised him.

They plotted and mapped every nook, corner, crack and crevice of Hell. It involved capturing demons at random and irregular pattern and torturing that information from them. The randomness and irregularity of demon abductions kept Crowley off their trail. Having Crowley's attention on the carrot called purgatory helped evade his snake eyes. After spending another week on the strategy, they had finally devised a safe -if you could still call it that- plan to pull Sam out.

It required weakening Castiel's grace which otherwise would have acted as a beacon, attracting unnecessary attention from the demons. Even in the weak state, his grace was strong for his human vessel, which was why they decided to carve the sigil at the final moment.

Here they were, in close proximity of the residence of Heaven's fallen and Hell's ruler. Tessa had already finished carving the sigil on Castiel's chest and was dropping other ingredients needed for the spell in the center of the pentagram that was drawn from the angel's blood and grace.

"Castiel, this is no child's play. Do you really want to do this?" Tessa tried to talk him out of this madness one last time. "For all we know, the Sam we know and love might not be there anymore."

As if on the cue, a bone-chilling scream echoed through the passages of Hell. It filled the gloomy ambiance and bounced off the somber caverns. It was Sam's.

"I cannot leave him there. I have to do this." His mind was set and nothing or no one was going to change that.

"Alright then", she said. "You remember what you have to do?"

"I must refrain from the urge to heal to Sam, no matter his suffering. Stay hidden from Lucifer's sight and wait for Sam's life to end. Draw this same sigil, and jailbreak Sam."

"Good Luck, Castiel."

Another scream whistled around them breaking goosebumps all over their bodies.

"Hold on, Sam. I'm coming for you."

-SPN-

Even after existing since before the dawn of time, Castiel had seen his share of cruelty and blood baths and massacre that should have been enough to prepare him for the sight he witnessed in the Cage. How wrong and foolish was he to think that?

Castiel ached deep inside at the sight of Sam. He was beyond recognition. The irony was: the blood and the wounds covering his face had nothing to do with that; it was his soul that was unrecognizable.

Sam was lying face down and bound to a metal table. His back was skinned raw, bleeding and the muscles ripped clean off the bones. Something white was sticking out of his bloodied back. It was one of the ribs, he realized in great horror.

Everything inside the angel was screaming at him to butt heads with the archangel, to shove him away from Sam's writhing form and bury him six worlds deeper into Hell. But instead, he was just a silent observer to the gory carnage playing out in front of him.

He loathed that he had stand witness to Sam's suffering. 'Whatever Lucifer is doing to Sam, you cannot interfere. You must wait for Lucifer to be done with him.' The reaper's words rang like alarm bells in his head. Resignation washed over him and he decided to wait until the Devil was done.

Unlike to Lucifer, Sam's abandoned screams were no less torture to Castiel. How could someone take so much pleasure out of a soul's suffering? Sam screamed, his throat raw, mouth flooding with blood, his nose running, eyes puffy from crying, hair damp with sweat and tears were trickling down his face.

At that moment, Sam looked so young and his soul so ancient. For the first time, Castiel saw him for a human and nothing else; not an abomination, or the boy-king, or the boy with demon blood or Lucifer's vessel. He saw a human suffering unconstrained at the hands of the devil for the crime he didn't even commit.

But the angel knew he had to wait. Acting purely on the instinct was going to land him next to Sam. He would be of no help to the hunter if the devil caught him breaking into his territory. But just like everything else, it was easier said than done. Sam was not making it any easier. Not that he was to be blamed for that.

The sickening pop of his rib that Lucifer snapped and Sam's pitiful pleas begging for mercy jarred Castiel to the core of his grace. His heart broke silently watching Sam shudder in pain, weakly pull at his bonds then giving up in defeat.

"C'mon, Sam" Lucifer grabbed his hair with blood-soaked fingers, pulling his head up, making Sam cry out as the action shook his broken ribs. "Don't be so selfish. Scream for me. After all, I'm going through all this hardship just so I can hear the melodious sound of your screams."

"Luc'fer..." His weak voice whistled through the Cage. Castiel didn't think it was possible for Sam to speak at this point. But then again, he didn't think any human would survive such horrifying torture for so long.

"Please, I'm beggin' you... please st-top... I-I can't..." Castiel had never seen Sam look so vulnerable, so broken. For a man with his physique, Sam looked so fragile; he might crumble under Lucifer's cruel hold.

"Ah-ah-ah, Sam" Lucifer smoothed his hair, pressing his face down on the cold metal; he reached for another rib and snapped it like a twig. "We stop when I say so. If, I say so", His laughter bounced off the walls.

The hunter screamed, fresh tears sliding down his face mixing with the blood. He was breathing fast and the sound of his heart beating miles per second was echoing throughout the Cage, mocking Castiel and his helplessness. Sam's whole body writhed and squirmed trying to pull away from the pain. His eyes were losing focus and his breathing was slowing down. His demise was close, Castiel could feel that, and he loathed himself for finding peace in that thought, for he could only begin to save Sam after his death.

Of course, the Winchesters never had luck on their side. Lucifer put his hand on Sam's head and soft light radiated from his palm. Sam exhaled a broken sigh of relief. The obscure angel did not understand why Lucifer was healing Sam. The sudden shift from cruel torturer to a healer left the angel feeling a little dazed.

Color was returning to Sam's face and his heartbeat was picking up the normal pace. Why the broken ribs that were still sticking out like demented wings were not healing was something the angel could not understand. The healing should have fixed his bones, unless… Lucifer did not want them to be healed. That vile son of a …..

"I can't have you dying on me before I'm done breaking my toy now, can I?" Lucifer snickered, caressing his mangled ribs and moved to the next intact rib and then the next one, keeping the terrified hunter locked in the anticipation of the forthcoming pain. The devil's hand stilled and in split second, the bone cracked and snapped.

"De-ean!" Sam cried out his brother's name.

It took all his strength for Castiel to not intervene. The harsh truth dawned upon the angel of the Lord then: God was cruel. He did not know of mercy, of redemption, of forgiveness. He had none of these virtues in him otherwise he would not have let Sam, an innocent soul caught in the crossfire to suffer so heinously. Lucifer was barbaric with his torture methods and the proof of it was littered all across Sam's soul.

Oh, his soul!

It looked so tattered and torn.

"Dean!" Sam cried miserably, his entire body curling into himself, a futile attempt at self-preservation. Poor boy, did he not know that he lost all of that the day he was destined to be Lucifer's vessel. If, what Zuriel said was true, then this was always going to end bloody for Sam. Hell, it was bloody but it was no closer to ending. If anything, Lucifer was dragging this out painfully slow, taking his time, breaking one sweet rib at a time.

Sam was defeated. There was no fight in him left. Lucifer had broken him for good. Castiel had never seen Sam look like the way he was looking at the moment: shattered and hopeless.

Not once throughout his torture had he prayed to be saved. Why hadn't he prayed? If not to God, why hadn't he prayed to Castiel? Then it dawned on him and the scene of Lucifer disintegrating him played out in his mind. Sam didn't know that Castiel was brought back to life.

The torture went on for another stretch of time. Sam's screams were loud enough to make another human's ears bleed. Lucifer's cackles at Sam's pitiful attempts to scream when he could no longer scream were grating torture in itself. Even though 'Team Free Will' as Dean had called it had managed to stop the apocalypse, Lucifer had created his own twisted little apocalyptic world that was fueled by Sam's endless suffering.

Dignity thrown out of the window, Sam thought of begging. Sometimes, if he begged Lucifer let him off the hooks but most of the time he just took pleasure in his pleas. But after all the years of humiliation and endless suffering, Sam was not just tired, he was broken. He just wanted his sufferings to end for once and all, to lose himself to the unconsciousness and yet there was a small part of him that believed he deserved all of this. This was his redemption for breaking the world in the first place. This was him trying to right his all wrongs. All the suffering and torture that Lucifer had put him through, that he would continue to put him through, all of this was for the greater good.

In his life, all he did was bring only pain and suffering to the people around. Right from the moment that he was born, a mere 6 months into existence, he was responsible for his mother's death. Jessica, Ash, Ellen, Jo were the next few names among the list of others that had died a cruel death all because of Sam and his pig-headedness. Even Dean had to die because of him. Now Bobby and Castiel were in that list too. There was too much blood, innocent blood on his hand. This was his only chance at redemption.

He deserved this. He deserved more. He deserved worse fate than what he was going through. It was too much. All this pain and this torture, it was too much than anyone could bear. But Sam would do it and he would it with a smile on his face, as long as the one person that matters the most is still safe. He would do it for Dean.

"Earth to Sam?" Lucifer's malicious voice pulled Sam back into the pitiable misery that was his existence. "Or should I say Hell to Sam?"

Sam drew in a ragged breath and put it to good use that wasn't screaming or begging, "Screw you."

Lucifer cackled, the sound resonating through the walls of Hell. "And here I thought I broke you completely. Good to know there's still some fight left in you." With the unwanted cruelty, Lucifer snapped another one of Sam's ribs and yanked it out with such vigor that it cracked the thrashing hunter's spine.

More torture followed after Sam's abandoned screaming. All ribs were broken and pulled apart making Sam's torn back look like a scene straight from a horror movie massacre and a massacre it was: Massacre of the Great Sam Winchester: the boyking, the freak, the boy with demon blood, the abomination, the true vessel of the Devil. Yet, it was also the redemption of Sam Winchester: a faithful lover, a beloved brother, a good son, a sympathetic human and the savior of the world.

Castiel had to never bear witness to such a horrifying act of torture: the blood, the sickening crunch of the bones, the echoing screams, the pitiful pleas. If the angel thought this was horrible, the devil dragging this torture out in creative ways was far worse. Sam just kept suffering, not that he had any choice. But Castiel did, he could intervene, die trying to save Sam if it meant letting the man have few moments of mercy but there was a bigger picture: Sam's freedom. Just hang in there, Sam. Do it for Dean.

When Sam could barely whisper and let alone scream, like a petulant child, Lucifer got bored of Sam. The archangel ruffled the blood and sweat-soaked clumps of hair and whistled his way away from the dying man's bound form.

Ensuring the archangel was gone for good, Castiel rushed to Sam's still form. He looked a mess. He looked worse than a road kill with the crimson-hued bones sticking out from his back. Castiel was about to place a hand on his Sam's forehead but the hunter sensed his presence and began to panic.

"Pl-please," he begged brokenly, "Pl-please, Luc'fer. No more… n-no more"

"Shhhh, Sam" Castiel cooed, "It's me, Castiel"

"Castiel?" he asked before the blurry memory of the beloved angel exploding into atom-sized particles came crashing in, "He is dead. You killed him." Sam cried softly, "Y-you lie. L-liar."

"No, Sam. It is me, Castiel" But Castiel could see he was already losing Sam. The abused hunter mumbled incoherently before drawing in his last breath. "Oh, Sam!"

The angel freed Sam's body from the metal table which otherwise would have been his pyre. An unusual heaviness filled his heart as he gently cradled a dead Sam to his chest. Angels were unaccustomed to human emotions but for the first time, Castiel was beginning to understand sorrow. Memories of Sam came flooding in his blurring eyes and with every memory, he felt his heart sinking deeper, drowning into dark places he didn't know existed within him.

"It's over, Sam" he cooed softly, brushing his hair away from his tear and blood stained face. "I am here to save you. It's over, I promise." The angel silently wept.

Something dark and greasy swirled from Sam's middle, rising towards his mouth. It smoked out from between his lips surprising Castiel. Sam wasn't possessed but it sure looked like a demon slithering out of a host and yet there was something familiar about it. That's when it dawned upon Castiel: It was Sam's soul.

All these years of torture and abuse had tainted and poisoned Sam's soul. All the vibrancy of the soul was contaminated by the horrible torture that was inflicted directly upon it. Like his body, his soul was tattered to resemble a ragged piece of clothing. It was one firm hold away from crumbling to dust.

As Castiel reached towards the soul, it sensed his presence and recoiled away, becoming one with the dark caverns of Hell. It was corrupted, abused and weakened to a level where it could no longer sense the difference between good and bad. Everything was taken as a threat. If a human carried a soul like this, he would be driven to insanity with minutes if the constant paranoia didn't compel the vessel to take its life before. Even for a vessel as strong as Sam's, the soul's instability could result in deterioration of the mind and body beyond repair.

With a soul this crippled and abused, Sam would still be locked and experimented on the top side in a padded cell which would be not very different from his current state. Of course, it wouldn't be as heinous and inhumane as Devil's personal condo here but it would still make Sam feel like a caged animal.

A Sam without a soul was a territory that was not explored before. How horrible could that be? Certainly not as bad as a Sam with a soul that was barely holding itself. Resurrecting Sam without his soul would definitely come with never before seen dangers but at least a without his soul, there would be no more pain, no more suffering. After all, hadn't Sam suffered enough already? Wasn't Castiel here to end the boy's suffering? Castiel was soulless too and he was doing alright. A soul like Sam's would only end up being another liability on Dean's grief burdened shoulders.

With that logic, the angel ripped open his shirt and started cutting the sigil into his chest. Holding Sam's body closer and giving one last glance at his trembling soul lurking in the dark, the angel recited the spell and broke Sam out of Hell.

-SPN-

The soreness at the base of his neck and between his shoulders was nothing new for the hunter. He groaned softly as stretched his neck trying to break out the kinks. The sky was clear and the howling wind was replaced by the sharp ringing in his ears. He blinked a couple of times and waited for the ringing to die out.

Hunter's instinct kicked in and he checked his body for any signs of injury other than the soreness. It seemed like he had passed out after drinking too much. Yeah, that would explain why he was under the open skies with his body feeling like it had been run over by a road roller.

But, it wasn't like him to pass out; maybe it was for his brother on nights that seemed to stretch longer, but not him. He leaped to his feet a little too swiftly causing his head to spin as the ringing threatened to return. Giving another moment for nausea to settle, he looked around trying to understand where he was.

STULL CEMETERY

He could make out those words even when they were flipped backward. What followed next was an entire recap of everything that had happened in the very spot that he was standing on: the vile taste of demon blood he had swallowed, the feeling of helplessness and despair when Lucifer possessed him, the crunch of Bobby's neck, the splatter of Castiel's remains, Dean's bones cracking as Lucifer beat into his face, the fraction of light glinting off the Impala that broke Lucifer's hold and finally the everlasting absence of light as he jumped in the pit. It all came crashing down on him.

Sam wasn't too thrilled to be alive. Dean had come back from the dead. In fact, this wasn't his first time being back from the dead. He just hoped Dean didn't make another reckless deal with the next demon he had summoned. They had already been down that road once. A second serving was not needed.

If anyone could tell him what exactly was going on, it was Dean. So Sam set out to find his brother. He looked around the cemetery and it was quite obvious that he was all by himself. Dean was nowhere in sight and neither was his piece of metal he so lovingly calls "baby".

-SPN-

Dean had never looked this content. Not even when both brothers had set out to light the night sky with firecrackers. But watching him there, at Lisa's dining table as she served another spoonful of mashed potatoes in his plate, he looked genuinely happy for a man who had just lost his baby brother he had sworn to protect. So an afternoon of mourning was apparently all he was to get for jumping in the pit then?

A part of Sam wanted to question his brother's loyalty and yet another logical part of him knew that Dean was merely keeping his word. He had promised Sam that if got a chance at the normal apple pie life that he always wanted, he would take it and hold on to it. So pulling Dean out from a life he dreamed off did not seem fair.

Anyway, Sam had bigger things to resolve. For starters, how was he alive and kicking? Who brought him back? What happened to Lucifer and Michael? But most importantly, why wasn't he feeling like... like... Sam? He was Sam in a way Lucifer was no longer inside his head and yet he didn't feel Sam enough.

With those thoughts muddling in his head, Sam walked away from the happy picture that was Dean's life.

-SPN-

Sam walked away from Dean instead of going towards him. That's when Castiel knew that something was terribly wrong about bringing Sam back without his soul. The question was: how far could this go wrong before it caused irreparable damage?


End file.
